


Campfire Stories, Season Two

by Polrobin



Series: Campfire Series [2]
Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Campfires, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-20
Updated: 2008-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polrobin/pseuds/Polrobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edited to fix one or two errors. Sorry about that, folks.</p><p>A/N: Another on-Earth campfire story. <i>In the Line of Duty</i> was such a powerful Sam episode that I can't help but think there'd be more to say.</p><p>Also, I just want to add here that I have been treating myself to a rather heavy dose of fanfic reading lately and am completely and utterly blown away by the talent that is out there. Some of you folks should be published; you weave gripping tales of love, romance, drama and suspense that keep me up until the wee hours of the morning. I am at once humbled and inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Set after _In the Line of Duty_

_  
**Brave**   
_

" _Sam? Remember, you are very brave."_

Cassandra's soft reassurance, spoken so gently to Carter just days ago, echoed through O'Neill's memory as he watched that same young girl pull his second-in-command toward his backyard firepit. He could see from her slightly hesitant steps and her too-stiff posture that Carter wasn't happy to be there, despite the presence of Cassandra. He wondered if it was too soon to have done this, to have pulled her from the cocoon into which she'd disappeared. Jack knew more than anyone how much easier it was to simply hide away from pain, rather than face it and move on. He'd been outvoted this time. First Daniel, then Cassandra. He'd been powerless to resist the little girl's plea for help, her wide eyes brimming with tears as she'd leaned against his knee, asking if it was okay to have another s'more party at his house. God knew he'd do anything for the child who'd lost so much. Add to it that the person needing the most help was Carter...

"Jack?" Daniel's not too gentle nudge at his back forced O'Neill to move out of the doorway of his house and onto the back porch.

"Sorry, Daniel, just thinking."

Daniel joined O'Neill on the porch, both of them watching as Cassandra settled Sam near the firepit. Unlike most 12-year-olds, Cassandra didn't fill the silence with empty chatter, she was content to just be there for Sam. For her part, Sam simply stared into the fire, her gaze unfocused, her eyes far away. The lost look on her face made O'Neill's heart ache and he unconsciously began to move toward her.

Janet sat across from Cassandra and Sam, having claimed the only functional lawn chair in the yard. Teal'c sat to her right, balanced on a low, flat rock. He was carefully laying out the necessary elements for his own s'more. Daniel had followed Jack down, glancing between the empty place on the ground to Sam's left and log propped on the other side of the fire. Worn smooth by many a backside, the log was his favorite perch when the firepit was lit. Jack solved Daniel's dilemma by stepping around Sam and lowering himself to the ground next to her.

Cassandra leaned into Sam's lap, using her as leverage to hand O'Neill his s'more fixings. She glanced again at the still expressionless Sam then began to prepare another plate for her as well.

"Cassie? It's okay, sweetie. I'll get Sam's stuff ready. You go ahead and make your own dessert." Jack smiled at the girl, appreciating the care she was taking of Carter. She was so serious at times, so mature past her years. Jack was determined that she not shoulder too much, too soon. Yes, her love and reassurance had helped Carter, and would continue to do so, but Jack didn't want Cass to feel responsible for Carter. That was his...someone else's...job. Cass' job was to be a little kid for a while longer.

"I don't mind, Uncle Jack, honest."

"I know you don't Cassie, but it's okay. Go on."

Janet spoke up, sensing that O'Neill was trying to give Carter a break from the hovering child. "Cassandra, honey, why don't you come over here and make a s'more for me? I can never get the marshmallow toasted right."

Cass stood, bending to drop a brief kiss on Carter's cheek before heading around the firepit. Jack caught his breath at the sudden and unexpected flash of jealousy he felt at her simple action. He needed to get a handle on those thoughts, and quickly. Cassandra seemed to be a catalyst for his feelings about Carter. Jack remembered standing at the elevators in that missile silo once he'd realized that the bomb implanted within Cassandra had not detonated. With his forehead resing against the mic's speaker, he'd spent a long minute trying to control the shaking in his knees. Something significant had changed for him in that moment and he'd resolved to deal with it later. Much later. He sighed softly and shook his head–it _was_ later and he'd yet to sort through his feelings. And now, with Cassandra's sweet, natural gesture, Jack acknowledged that his feelings for the officer beside him had moved beyond the purely professional into something more. Something deeper. Something that could damage them both, professionally _and_ personally if he wasn't careful. And damaging Carter in any way was not acceptable to Jack O'Neill. As Cass began showing Janet her roasting technique, O'Neill thought of the first time they'd done this with her. How different a night that had been, but how very much the same.

Carter must have been thinking the same thing as she softly asked him, "Remember the story Daniel told that night?"

Jack responded just as quietly. "The one about the s'morians?"

"Yeah." Sam turned away from the fire, her face flushed from its heat, her eyes catching his for just a moment. "Do you remember how it ended?"

Jack scratched his head and frowned. He absently plucked a marshmallow from the bag and speared it onto a stick. He automatically handed it to Sam while he prepared another for himself. As the sweet scent of toasting sugar mixed with the sharp smell of burning wood, he leaned back against the picnic bench behind him. Finally he shook his head. "Sorry, Carter, I don't."

"Funny, neither do I." Sam set her roasting stick down, marshmallow forgotten, and pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her cheek on her knees, Sam closed her eyes. "I just remember the sound of Daniel's voice from across the fire, kind of like now. It was comforting."

O'Neill slid closer to her to hear her quiet words. Across the firepit the others carried on quiet conversations, Daniel and Cassie supervising Teal'c's and Janet's s'more building projects.

"Carter...how can we help. How can _I_ help?" He watched as she opened her eyes, her gaze tracking to his. Normally a brilliant and clear blue, tonight they were almost translucent in the light of the fire, reflecting her fragile state and pulling O'Neill in closer. He forced himself to focus on her words. His normally well-spoken Second wasn't making a lot of sense and Jack was beginning to get concerned. Those clear, bright eyes focused on his, and O'Neill felt his heart skip a beat in response. "Sam?"

"That's what it was like."

Now O'Neill was really lost. Were they still talking about making s'mores a few months back? "What _what_ was like, Sam?"

"Jolinar. In my head. Only it wasn't comforting." She closed her eyes again, leaving Jack feeling adrift at the loss of connection.

"You...she...I mean..." Jack sighed, then mimicked her pose. He abandoned his own marshmallow and brought his knees up. With his face turned away from the others and toward Sam's, he felt as if they were apart from the small group, yet close enough to still be a part of it. He reached over and laid his hand on Carter's arm, giving it a slight squeeze. "Sam? Was she talking to you the whole time?"

With a quiet sniffle, Sam simply nodded.

O'Neill sat quietly, his hand still on her arm, his comforting gesture hidden from view of the others by the shadows of the night. He couldn't imagine having someone _inside_ of his head, a constant unwanted presence. Hell, he couldn't stand to be in large crowds for very long before needing to find a place to hide and recharge. Jack knew what a private person his Captain was, how she cherished her independence. To have that taken away, her thoughts constantly monitored... _invaded_... A second soft sniffle followed the first and Jack scooted closer until their knees were touching. He didn't really care if the rest of his team was aware of his and Carter's proximity–she needed comfort and he was going to give it.

Before he could say a word, she mumbled quietly, "She's wrong, you know. Cassandra. I'm not very brave at all."

"Oh, Carter. Of course you are." O'Neill bent his head low, his words only for her.

Carter's eyes fluttered open and widened as she realized how close her CO's face was to hers. "No, Sir. I don't mean to argue with you, but I'm not. I'm...oh, God, I'm... _terrified_ to go out there again." Sam lifted her head, tilting back to look at the stars above. There, she'd said it. Told her Colonel the unthinkable. That she was _afraid_.

O'Neill had some idea of what that admission had cost her. From day one Sam Carter had made it her mission to 'keep up with the boys,' and she'd done it without hesitation. Time after time in their first year together it was Carter more often than not who stepped forward to get the job done. Jack knew that he could go into any situation, face _anyone_ , and his Second would be there, tight on his six, doing her job. Fearlessly. Sometimes, though, fear could be useful, and it's time she learned that. "It's okay to be afraid, you know. Maybe if you're a little afraid you'll take less chances." O'Neill held up a finger, making sure she understood what he was trying to say. He'd seen the pain flash across her face at his words. "I'm not saying that you took a chance before, or that _any_ of this was your fault, Sam. But a little fear can be a good thing." God knew he was afraid every time any one of his team was in danger. He refused to consider how much more he was afraid when the person in danger was this brilliant beautiful woman who'd quickly become so indispensible to him.

"I know 'Carter's don't quit,' but I really don't know if I can step through that gate again." Sam suppressed a quiet shudder that ran through her.

"You will." O'Neill felt her shake slightly and his quiet words pulled her focus back to him. The firelight flickered and danced across her features, softening the lines of pain that had held sway for so many days. She'd go out there again, reluctantly at first, but it would happen. Maybe not next week, or the week after that, but she'd go. There was too much of the explorer in her to have it any other way.

"How do you know, Sir?"

The hesitance in her voice, the doubt and pain, the need for reassurance and strength crumbled O'Neill's walls. Here's where he was supposed to be the unbiased commanding officer, offering her wise words of wisdom, maybe a stirring speech about duty and honor. But the part of him that was _Jack_ , the part of him that couldn't _be_ an impartial commander to her, wouldn't let him take that route, the easy route. That part of him demanded honesty, even when it was hard.

"Because I know you, Captain Carter. More importantly, I know _you_...Sam. Because I remember the look of utter...awe...on your face the very first time you touched the event horizon, and the..." O'Neill swallowed. This was hard for him, this deep, emotional stuff, but it was important. To him. For her. His voice rough, he continued, "...the...oh hell. It's _in_ you, Sam. You can't _not_ go through again. And when you do, when you're ready, I'll–" Jack stopped, then gestured with his chin toward the rest of their group. " _We'll_ be right there with you." O'Neill gave her arm another squeeze then slowly moved his hand around to rest it against her back. He began to rub gently, up and down, reassuring himself as much as her that she was okay; that she was better than okay.

Carter sat quietly, enjoying the warmth of O'Neill's hand on her back. She needed this–an anchor–as she sorted through the seemingly endless sea of emotions left in the wake of Jolinar's presence and then sudden absence. Very slowly the coldness that had held her captive for the last few days began to seep away, chased by the warmth of the words O'Neill spoke and the strength of his belief in her. Giving in to the exhaustion she'd been fighting, Sam leaned ever so gently against O'Neill's legs, glad for the cloak of darkness. It was so much easier to lean on someone in the dark and the Colonel made it easy for her. She didn't feel that if she admitted her weakness– her _fear_ –that he'd hold it against her in the light of day. She trusted him. Soothed by the rhythm of his gentle strokes, Sam felt herself relaxing and coming back into herself.

Jack felt Carter lean more fully against him and he smiled. He knew that for Carter to use someone else's strength, even for a little while, said a lot. He was glad she trusted him enough to admit her fears, to open a tiny crack in the mighty fortress that was Sam Carter. To let him see past those walls. That, above all, was the bravest thing he'd seen her do in a very long time. He thought again of Cassie's words as Sam lay so listless and despondent in the infirmary. Maybe _he_ needed to tell her too, maybe she really didn't know. O'Neill shifted her closer so that she was leaning more of her weight against him, then whispered quietly to her. "And Sam? You _are_ very brave."


	2. Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At the beginning of the episode Jack says, "Captain, any signs of radio traffic in the last twenty-four hours?" I choose to believe that they 'gated in the day before and spent the night. Of course, that means a camp and therefore, a campfire.

_  
**Brave**   
_

" _Sam? Remember, you are very brave."_

Cassandra's soft reassurance, spoken so gently to Carter just days ago, echoed through O'Neill's memory as he watched that same young girl pull his second-in-command toward his backyard firepit. He could see from her slightly hesitant steps and her too-stiff posture that Carter wasn't happy to be there, despite the presence of Cassandra. He wondered if it was too soon to have done this, to have pulled her from the cocoon into which she'd disappeared. Jack knew more than anyone how much easier it was to simply hide away from pain, rather than face it and move on. He'd been outvoted this time. First Daniel, then Cassandra. He'd been powerless to resist the little girl's plea for help, her wide eyes brimming with tears as she'd leaned against his knee, asking if it was okay to have another s'more party at his house. God knew he'd do anything for the child who'd lost so much. Add to it that the person needing the most help was Carter...

"Jack?" Daniel's not too gentle nudge at his back forced O'Neill to move out of the doorway of his house and onto the back porch.

"Sorry, Daniel, just thinking."

Daniel joined O'Neill on the porch, both of them watching as Cassandra settled Sam near the firepit. Unlike most 12-year-olds, Cassandra didn't fill the silence with empty chatter, she was content to just be there for Sam. For her part, Sam simply stared into the fire, her gaze unfocused, her eyes far away. The lost look on her face made O'Neill's heart ache and he unconsciously began to move toward her.

Janet sat across from Cassandra and Sam, having claimed the only functional lawn chair in the yard. Teal'c sat to her right, balanced on a low, flat rock. He was carefully laying out the necessary elements for his own s'more. Daniel had followed Jack down, glancing between the empty place on the ground to Sam's left and log propped on the other side of the fire. Worn smooth by many a backside, the log was his favorite perch when the firepit was lit. Jack solved Daniel's dilemma by stepping around Sam and lowering himself to the ground next to her.

Cassandra leaned into Sam's lap, using her as leverage to hand O'Neill his s'more fixings. She glanced again at the still expressionless Sam then began to prepare another plate for her as well.

"Cassie? It's okay, sweetie. I'll get Sam's stuff ready. You go ahead and make your own dessert." Jack smiled at the girl, appreciating the care she was taking of Carter. She was so serious at times, so mature past her years. Jack was determined that she not shoulder too much, too soon. Yes, her love and reassurance had helped Carter, and would continue to do so, but Jack didn't want Cass to feel responsible for Carter. That was his...someone else's...job. Cass' job was to be a little kid for a while longer.

"I don't mind, Uncle Jack, honest."

"I know you don't Cassie, but it's okay. Go on."

Janet spoke up, sensing that O'Neill was trying to give Carter a break from the hovering child. "Cassandra, honey, why don't you come over here and make a s'more for me? I can never get the marshmallow toasted right."

Cass stood, bending to drop a brief kiss on Carter's cheek before heading around the firepit. Jack caught his breath at the sudden and unexpected flash of jealousy he felt at her simple action. He needed to get a handle on those thoughts, and quickly. Cassandra seemed to be a catalyst for his feelings about Carter. Jack remembered standing at the elevators in that missile silo once he'd realized that the bomb implanted within Cassandra had not detonated. With his forehead resing against the mic's speaker, he'd spent a long minute trying to control the shaking in his knees. Something significant had changed for him in that moment and he'd resolved to deal with it later. Much later. He sighed softly and shook his head–it _was_ later and he'd yet to sort through his feelings. And now, with Cassandra's sweet, natural gesture, Jack acknowledged that his feelings for the officer beside him had moved beyond the purely professional into something more. Something deeper. Something that could damage them both, professionally _and_ personally if he wasn't careful. And damaging Carter in any way was not acceptable to Jack O'Neill. As Cass began showing Janet her roasting technique, O'Neill thought of the first time they'd done this with her. How different a night that had been, but how very much the same.

Carter must have been thinking the same thing as she softly asked him, "Remember the story Daniel told that night?"

Jack responded just as quietly. "The one about the s'morians?"

"Yeah." Sam turned away from the fire, her face flushed from its heat, her eyes catching his for just a moment. "Do you remember how it ended?"

Jack scratched his head and frowned. He absently plucked a marshmallow from the bag and speared it onto a stick. He automatically handed it to Sam while he prepared another for himself. As the sweet scent of toasting sugar mixed with the sharp smell of burning wood, he leaned back against the picnic bench behind him. Finally he shook his head. "Sorry, Carter, I don't."

"Funny, neither do I." Sam set her roasting stick down, marshmallow forgotten, and pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her cheek on her knees, Sam closed her eyes. "I just remember the sound of Daniel's voice from across the fire, kind of like now. It was comforting."

O'Neill slid closer to her to hear her quiet words. Across the firepit the others carried on quiet conversations, Daniel and Cassie supervising Teal'c's and Janet's s'more building projects.

"Carter...how can we help. How can _I_ help?" He watched as she opened her eyes, her gaze tracking to his. Normally a brilliant and clear blue, tonight they were almost translucent in the light of the fire, reflecting her fragile state and pulling O'Neill in closer. He forced himself to focus on her words. His normally well-spoken Second wasn't making a lot of sense and Jack was beginning to get concerned. Those clear, bright eyes focused on his, and O'Neill felt his heart skip a beat in response. "Sam?"

"That's what it was like."

Now O'Neill was really lost. Were they still talking about making s'mores a few months back? "What _what_ was like, Sam?"

"Jolinar. In my head. Only it wasn't comforting." She closed her eyes again, leaving Jack feeling adrift at the loss of connection.

"You...she...I mean..." Jack sighed, then mimicked her pose. He abandoned his own marshmallow and brought his knees up. With his face turned away from the others and toward Sam's, he felt as if they were apart from the small group, yet close enough to still be a part of it. He reached over and laid his hand on Carter's arm, giving it a slight squeeze. "Sam? Was she talking to you the whole time?"

With a quiet sniffle, Sam simply nodded.

O'Neill sat quietly, his hand still on her arm, his comforting gesture hidden from view of the others by the shadows of the night. He couldn't imagine having someone _inside_ of his head, a constant unwanted presence. Hell, he couldn't stand to be in large crowds for very long before needing to find a place to hide and recharge. Jack knew what a private person his Captain was, how she cherished her independence. To have that taken away, her thoughts constantly monitored... _invaded_... A second soft sniffle followed the first and Jack scooted closer until their knees were touching. He didn't really care if the rest of his team was aware of his and Carter's proximity–she needed comfort and he was going to give it.

Before he could say a word, she mumbled quietly, "She's wrong, you know. Cassandra. I'm not very brave at all."

"Oh, Carter. Of course you are." O'Neill bent his head low, his words only for her.

Carter's eyes fluttered open and widened as she realized how close her CO's face was to hers. "No, Sir. I don't mean to argue with you, but I'm not. I'm...oh, God, I'm... _terrified_ to go out there again." Sam lifted her head, tilting back to look at the stars above. There, she'd said it. Told her Colonel the unthinkable. That she was _afraid_.

O'Neill had some idea of what that admission had cost her. From day one Sam Carter had made it her mission to 'keep up with the boys,' and she'd done it without hesitation. Time after time in their first year together it was Carter more often than not who stepped forward to get the job done. Jack knew that he could go into any situation, face _anyone_ , and his Second would be there, tight on his six, doing her job. Fearlessly. Sometimes, though, fear could be useful, and it's time she learned that. "It's okay to be afraid, you know. Maybe if you're a little afraid you'll take less chances." O'Neill held up a finger, making sure she understood what he was trying to say. He'd seen the pain flash across her face at his words. "I'm not saying that you took a chance before, or that _any_ of this was your fault, Sam. But a little fear can be a good thing." God knew he was afraid every time any one of his team was in danger. He refused to consider how much more he was afraid when the person in danger was this brilliant beautiful woman who'd quickly become so indispensible to him.

"I know 'Carter's don't quit,' but I really don't know if I can step through that gate again." Sam suppressed a quiet shudder that ran through her.

"You will." O'Neill felt her shake slightly and his quiet words pulled her focus back to him. The firelight flickered and danced across her features, softening the lines of pain that had held sway for so many days. She'd go out there again, reluctantly at first, but it would happen. Maybe not next week, or the week after that, but she'd go. There was too much of the explorer in her to have it any other way.

"How do you know, Sir?"

The hesitance in her voice, the doubt and pain, the need for reassurance and strength crumbled O'Neill's walls. Here's where he was supposed to be the unbiased commanding officer, offering her wise words of wisdom, maybe a stirring speech about duty and honor. But the part of him that was _Jack_ , the part of him that couldn't _be_ an impartial commander to her, wouldn't let him take that route, the easy route. That part of him demanded honesty, even when it was hard.

"Because I know you, Captain Carter. More importantly, I know _you_...Sam. Because I remember the look of utter...awe...on your face the very first time you touched the event horizon, and the..." O'Neill swallowed. This was hard for him, this deep, emotional stuff, but it was important. To him. For her. His voice rough, he continued, "...the...oh hell. It's _in_ you, Sam. You can't _not_ go through again. And when you do, when you're ready, I'll–" Jack stopped, then gestured with his chin toward the rest of their group. " _We'll_ be right there with you." O'Neill gave her arm another squeeze then slowly moved his hand around to rest it against her back. He began to rub gently, up and down, reassuring himself as much as her that she was okay; that she was better than okay.

Carter sat quietly, enjoying the warmth of O'Neill's hand on her back. She needed this–an anchor–as she sorted through the seemingly endless sea of emotions left in the wake of Jolinar's presence and then sudden absence. Very slowly the coldness that had held her captive for the last few days began to seep away, chased by the warmth of the words O'Neill spoke and the strength of his belief in her. Giving in to the exhaustion she'd been fighting, Sam leaned ever so gently against O'Neill's legs, glad for the cloak of darkness. It was so much easier to lean on someone in the dark and the Colonel made it easy for her. She didn't feel that if she admitted her weakness– her _fear_ –that he'd hold it against her in the light of day. She trusted him. Soothed by the rhythm of his gentle strokes, Sam felt herself relaxing and coming back into herself.

Jack felt Carter lean more fully against him and he smiled. He knew that for Carter to use someone else's strength, even for a little while, said a lot. He was glad she trusted him enough to admit her fears, to open a tiny crack in the mighty fortress that was Sam Carter. To let him see past those walls. That, above all, was the bravest thing he'd seen her do in a very long time. He thought again of Cassie's words as Sam lay so listless and despondent in the infirmary. Maybe _he_ needed to tell her too, maybe she really didn't know. O'Neill shifted her closer so that she was leaning more of her weight against him, then whispered quietly to her. "And Sam? You _are_ very brave."


	3. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So...one wonders just how long they were on the planet before spotting the slaves putting the Naquadah through the 'gate. As I watch these eps, looking for the storypoint (for my series, anyway), I learn more about the characters; it's an interesting process. Once again this takes place on Earth, as I could see no real campfires being lit in the mines. And, while I don't necessarily like using episode titles for my own stories, this one worked. Reviews are appreciated and _always_ answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during _Need._

_  
**Need**   
_

Carter closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She heard Daniel's car start up and breathed a small sigh of relief. She knew it was wrong, but a small part of her was glad that they'd finally left. It had been O'Neill's idea to have a team night even though Sam had felt it was too soon after their return from P3R 636. Her fears had proven true, the evening had been strained and awkward, filled with tense silences and uncomfortable bursts of stilted conversation.

Sam remembered Daniel's harsh words to her in her lab and closed her eyes against the brief flash of pain that accompanied the memory. _"You've never really known what love is, have you?"_ He'd apologized for it later, after they'd come back and again this afternoon, but...the pain was still there. From the kitchen she heard O'Neill as he put away the dishes they'd just dried, and she took another, steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and joining him.

"They get off okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

O'Neill watched as Carter took the last of the pans from the sink and hung it on the rack, surreptitiously checking his Second to see how she was faring. She'd been right, it had been too soon to have tried a team night, but dammit... _he'd_ needed to spend time with them and he'd hoped they had felt that need too.

Need. Jack tried not to think of what it was, exactly, that he felt he needed.

Carter caught her CO's slight shudder and frowned. "Um, Sir? You okay?"

Jack nodded, not meeting her eyes. Through his patio doors he could see the small fire he'd lit earlier still blazing merrily away. Unlike other team nights, they'd not ended the evening outside around the fire. Instead Daniel had claimed to be tired and left almost immediately after dinner, taking Teal'c with him. O'Neill glanced back at Carter, noting her concerned look. "There's a perfectly good fire going out there, Captain. Shame to let it go to waste." He gestured with his chin and extended his hand in invitation.

Sam caught her breath in surprise at the unexpected thrill that shot through her at O'Neill's invitation. She glanced from his face to his hand and back again, relentlessly squashing the completely inappropriate spark of delight that warmed her. They were walking a thin line here...or at least she was. With the other two members of her team gone, Sam knew she should be heading home as well. It was too easy for someone...anyone...to get the wrong idea about her being alone with her CO in his house. On a Friday night. _Late_ on a Friday night. The problem was, Sam wasn't certain the person getting the wrong idea wasn't _her._ Daniel's words again echoed through her mind, " _You've never really known what love is have you?"_

Realizing O'Neill was still standing there, hand outstretched, his expression puzzled, Sam made a decision. She nodded once and, ignoring his hand, jammed her hands in her pockets and brushed past O'Neill, heading for the small fire.

O'Neill closed his eyes at the brief contact as his Captain moved past. Need. There it was again. Oh, this was a very bad idea. He should send her home, this woman. This dangerous woman. Grabbing two sweatshirts from the laundry room, Jack stepped out into the crisp, cool evening. He made his way down to the fire, determined to end the evening now, when he should. It was his responsibility to do this, to maintain the boundaries. No matter what his needs. He opened his mouth to speak when Carter's soft words cut him off.

"Sir?" Sam was perched in what she'd come to think of as 'her' spot by the fire, on the ground with her back propped against the bench of the picnic table, her long legs stretched out toward the fire. She tucked one leg up to her chest and leaned an elbow on it, turning her face toward her Colonel. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across his features; in the flickering firelight and with his five-o'clock shadow, Sam thought Jack O'Neill represented the epitome of the outdoorsman. The man who could handle anything. But, she knew, looks could be deceiving.

"Carter?" O'Neill slid into his regular spot, alongside Carter, his own legs crossed at the ankles. He handed her a sweatshirt before dropping his on his lap and clasping his hands behind his head.

Sam took the proffered sweatshirt absently, her mind on something else Daniel had said earlier. "Um, I...well, Sir. Daniel told me something today."

O'Neill simply raised an eyebrow, his attention still on the fire. Daniel had said some things to _him_ earlier today, too, and Jack was still angry about them. He didn't like it when his team members fought with each other...who was he kidding? He was pretty pissed at Daniel for striking out at Carter, yet he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"He said that when you and he were in the storage room, that you said...well, he said you told him you 'knew what it was like.'" Sam bit her lip. Once again she was pushing the boundaries of the traditional CO/Second relationship, but dammit, they didn't _have_ a traditional relationship. All fluttery feelings she might deny herself for Jack O'Neill aside, she, Captain Carter, cared about her CO, Colonel O'Neill. They, all four of them, were a family. Daniel's words today had chilled her, she was afraid O'Neill might still be feeling...something about what he'd admitted to Daniel. She didn't know how to say it properly, but she wanted him to know that she'd listen if he needed it.

"Seems like Daniel said a lot of things, today, eh?"

Carter tilted her head, sliding her hand down to wrap around her leg and resting her cheek on her knee, her face toward O'Neill. "I'm not sure I...oh. He, uh, told you what he said to me in my lab?"

"Yeah. I think it was part of the P3R 636 12-step program. Apologize to everyone you've hurt, or something like that."

"Oh." Sam swallowed, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. Damn Daniel for telling O'Neill. One more thing to...damn. Maybe she could just blow it off. "Sir, I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't have brought it up. He just told me what you said as part of his apologizing for smashing up some of my lab equipment. And he didn't really hurt me so much as–"

"Don't do that, Carter."

"Sir?"

"Don't...I don't know. _I_ felt like he'd punched me in the stomach when he told me what he'd said to you. Don't...hell, I don't know. Just, don't."

"Yes, Sir."

O'Neill sat silently watching the fire, occasionally poking at it with a nearby stick, halfheartedly turning the logs to increase the burn. He felt bad for cutting her off, but didn't want to see her make excuses for Daniel, or for her to brush off how hurtful Daniel's words had been. His understanding of Daniel's condition came through hard lessons, but he was only willing to stretch that understanding so far. And that didn't include allowing this fine officer, this amazing woman, to let someone else hurt her. Again. The experience he'd spoken of with Daniel wasn't something he was eager to relive, but he was willing to tell Carter some of it. He...needed to. It was a part of him and he wanted...hoped...she'd accept that. Understand it. Softly he said, "It's not really a secret, I guess. I had a little problem with pain meds after Iraq. Took me a while to shake it."

Sam was very careful to not let anything show on her face. God, how much he must have hurt, then, to let it go so far. Sam had some idea of what it had cost him, her very private CO, to tell her.

"I'm sorry, Colonel."

"Yeah, so was I."

The silence between them lengthened, broken only by the pop and crackle of the burning wood warming their feet. Carter watched the thin trail of smoke rise toward the stars, the light from them twinkling brightly on this cool, fall evening. She felt the dampness of the mountain night settling in and shivered slightly.

"You could put the sweatshirt on, you know."

"Yes, Sir, but then my legs would be cold."

"Ah." O'Neill watched as she rearranged his old sweatshirt to stretch further down her legs, covering a greater area for warmth. He silently handed her the pullover he'd brought down for himself, gesturing for her to put in on.

"You'll get cold, Sir."

"Nah. Flannel shirt, I'm good."

Carter slid her arms into the too-large shirt, trying not to be obvious as she inhaled the distinctly 'O'Neill' scent that enveloped her, lingering inside the soft folds as long as she dared. Popping her head through the neck, she absently ran her fingers through her hair to reorder it before smoothing the worn sweatshirt across her chest and pulling the bottom edges down to cover her hips.

O'Neill watched her movements, mercilessly banishing any thoughts of how adorable his Captain looked, her hair disheveled, her smaller body swathed in his too-large Academy sweats. "Better?"

"Mmh." Warmer now, Sam tipped her head back to rest on the seat and gazed again at the stars. She considered what the Colonel had said about not brushing off Daniel's hurtful words. Her CO was right, Daniel _had_ hurt her and she was surprised by how much. Just as she was surprised by O'Neill's reaction. He'd shared something painful with her and she felt she owed it to him to do the same. Sam took a deep breath before letting it out with a forceful sigh. "I...uh...I shared some stuff with Daniel about Jonas and I guess he thought he could use that to...well, yes, you were right. He hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry, Carter."

"Yeah, Sir. So was I."

The two officers sat together silently, one watching the fire, the other, the stars. After a while Sam yawned and stretched, feeling the cold of the evening stiffening her muscles. It was time to go, no matter how much she wanted to stay right where she was. She glanced at her CO, his gaze on the fire and his thoughts obviously far away. Although she was reluctant to disturb him she knew it was time she headed home. With a soft groan she pushed herself to her feet before turning and offering a hand to her CO.

"Sir?"

O'Neill started and looked at the hand hovering before him. He slowly reached out and held on as the younger officer pulled him upright. Beside them, the glowing embers of the dying fire swirled and danced on the currents of the cool night air.

"Thanks, Sir. For this evening." Carter absently ran her hand through her hair again, standing it on end and making her look younger than her thirty-one years. She bit her lip, her eyes firmly on the ground, then looked up at him, wrinkling her nose slightly. "I know I didn't want us all to get together tonight, but..." Sam tilted her head, giving O'Neill a small smile before continuing softly, "Thanks for letting me stay. I...I needed this."

"So did I, Carter." O'Neill gave her hand a brief squeeze before letting go and following her back up to the house. He waved Carter inside and followed her through the darkened house to the front entryway where stood, one hand on the door, the other propped against the frame and watched as she got into her car. He returned her brief wave and watched until her tail lights disappeared into the night.

" _I needed this,"_ she'd said. He'd been honest when he'd told her that he, too, had needed the evening. He would be less than honest, though, if he didn't admit that letting her stay after the others had left had less to do with her need...than his. This time, however, he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to shake _this_ need. And that frightened him more than any addiction ever had.


	4. Remedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay folks. RL is busy. Good busy, but busy nonetheless. I'm aiming for writing at least one of these Campfire stories each week, if not two. Thanks to all who have been reviewing...the nice comments really do keep me motivated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Need_ and before _Thor's Chariot_ on a planet and mission of my own making.

_  
**Remedy**   
_

Carter sat hunched over her steaming cup of coffee, trying to suppress the shudder as it ran through her body. She held her breath and took a long drink, hoping that would help. She grimaced as she shook with another spasm. It had started soon after they'd stepped onto P9J-726 and didn't look to be stopping anytime soon. Carter was relieved that this mission was going as well as it was, she didn't want to be coping with this while running from Jaffa. Or worse.

O'Neill watched his Second as she tried to hid her discomfort. She sat huddled over her coffee, her eyes on the fire before them, the picture of misery. It was too warm, really, for a fire, but they'd needed it for warming the water for their MRE's and as a source of light for the camp site. They'd even chosen to forego the tents, voting instead to sleep under the stars. Thankfully this planet didn't seem to have a small, biting insect problem, unlike the last. Jack suppressed his own shudder at the memory and noticed Carter doing the same. He didn't think his Captain would be cold, but...as she shook again, he finally asked, "Carter, you okay?"

"Ye-es, Sir." Her response was interrupted by another spasm.

"Carter."

Sam sighed and faced him. "Hiccups."

"Sorry?"

"Hi-hiccups, Sir. Can't sh-shake 'em."

Biting back a grin, O'Neill nodded and returned to his own dinner. Across the fire Daniel chuckled in sympathy while Teal'c simply looked puzzled.

"What is a 'hiccup'?"

Sam's response was cut short by a loud squeaking hiccup and she shrugged helplessly at Daniel. When he began his explanation, Carter sighed and leaned back. Damn, but she hated having these things. She got them occasionally, completely out of the blue. It was annoying and embarrassing, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. As she listened to Daniel explain the intricacies of the phenomenon to the Jaffa, she tried again to relax and think of...nothing. Sam rearranged her sleeping bag, and bunched up her jacket to act as more of a pillow. Just as she was about to lay back, O'Neill's sharp voice startled her.

"Carter!" O'Neill barked.

She sat up immediately, "S-sir?"

"I'm ordering you to cease and desist."

"Yes, Si-ir." She shrugged, her face mirroring her frustration. "I'll g-get right on that, S-sir."

Daniel shook his head. "Jack, you can't just _order_ Sam to stop."

Jack shrugged. "I was hoping to scare her into stopping."

"I do not understand, O'Neill. Why would frightening Captain Carter ease her condition?"

"Sometimes when you startle someone, Teal'c, it interrupts the muscle spasm I was telling you about."

"I see," said Teal'c, although he clearly did not.

O'Neill tuned Daniel out as he launched into a lengthy explanation of the various cultural remedies he'd read about for curing Carter's condition. Jack caught Carter's eye and shrugged, allowing a small smile to play across his lips. Poor Carter, she looked miserable. Across the fire, Daniel's storytelling lost steam as Teal'c rose and left to kel-no-reem before his watch began. The stillness of the night was broken only by the sound of the wind moving through the trees, accompanied by the crackle and hiss of the fire. And Carter's intermittent hiccups.

"Jack?"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Why doesn't Sam call you by name?"

Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw Carter's head whip around and she sat up straight, her attention wholly on the archaeologist. O'Neill's opened his mouth to reply but Carter beat him to it.

"Be-because it's incredibly inap-p-propriate, Daniel. Colonel O'Ne-neill is my CO, he outranks m-me." Sam shook her head, wondering what had gotten into Daniel. He knew the rules, he knew what the protocol was, however ignorant of military structure he pretended to be. Sam couldn't even think of her CO as "Jack" in her head, let alone imagine calling him that. She instantly squelched the flush of warmth that flowed through her for a moment, wondering what it would be like to be on such terms with him... _No, we're so not going there, Sam._

"Oh." Daniel looked from Sam to O'Neill and back again. "But Jack, Kowalsky called you 'Jack' all the time. You were his CO and outranked _him_."

"Daniel..."

"It's okay, Carter, save your breath. Daniel, Charlie Kowalsky and I were friends for a very long time, and it's...that's just how it was." Jack shrugged, glancing from Daniel to Carter, clearly wanting the subject dropped. Daniel actually had a valid point. SG1 was a much closer team...a tighter _family_...than his team with Kowalsky. He knew the other CO's of the other SG teams had relaxed the strict forms of address between team members, but he couldn't...wouldn't...let himself go there.

Daniel frowned and shook his head. "Whatever. Doesn't seem fair." He was silent for a few moments then rose and dusted off his trousers. "I'm gonna take a short walk before I turn in. Goodnight Jack, Sam."

"Don't go far, Daniel."

"I won't." As he stepped out of the light of the fire, Daniel added, "I still don't get the difference, you know. Between Kowalsky and Sam."

O'Neill waited until Daniel was far enough away before muttering under his breath, "The difference you _nit_ , is that I was never attracted to _Kowalsky._ "

Carter's sharp intake of breath sounded like a gunshot to O'Neill. Both officers froze, Jack still turned in the direction Daniel had taken, Carter caught halfway between sitting up and lying down. O'Neill's eyes slid slowly sideways to meet the stunned gaze of his 2IC. Carter's expressive blue eyes were wide, glistening in the light of the fire, her mouth open in shock. Neither said a word, both barely breathed.

 _Oh crap. I said that out loud. Crap, crap, crap._

O'Neill broke first, tearing his eyes away from Carter's and taking a deep breath to steady himself. _Crap. Gotta fix this or there'll be hell to pay._ The shit he could get into if she took this to Hammond. Damn, Hammond would have to split the team, and O'Neill couldn't stop the wave of unease that swept through him at thought of the team being broken up. Damage control. _Think, Jack, think!_ Try as he might Jack knew that there was nothing he could do to unsay what he'd just said. Carter had every right in the world to file a complaint and he'd back her up one-hundred percent. Maybe Hammond would –

"Colonel?"

Taking a deep breath, Jack forced himself to turn and meet Carter's gaze. He automatically dropped his 'command mask' into place, only the small tic under his left eye giving away the turmoil going on behind his eyes.

Sam waited for her Colonel to face her, wincing as she saw him duck behind the façade of his command persona as quickly as he would dive to avoid weapons fire. She was still a bit shell-shocked by his inadvertent admission. Shell-shocked and secretly delighted. At least now she knew that the attraction she felt went both ways. It wouldn't go any further than that, she knew, but damn...it was nice to know it wasn't just all on her side. _Having a crush on your CO? How cliché can you get, Sam? And we all know how much O'Neill_ loves _clichés._ Watching O'Neill slowly turn, she was struck by the flash of fear and...pain?...she'd seen just before his mask slipped into place. _What would he be afraid of? It's not like I'm going to file a...oh._ Sam gave O'Neill a gentle smile and was relieved to see his features soften in response. His eyes begged her to let his comment go, and she would, if only to set his mind at ease. Broadening her smile, she took a deep breath. Then another as something occurred to her. Her hiccups were gone.

She held his gaze for a moment longer, marveling at the depth of color and emotion she saw there. Finally, she said softly, "Thanks, Sir."

"Um...for?" O'Neill's voice was strained, his tension evident.

"Looks like Daniel was right." Off of her CO's surprised look she added with a grin, "Startling someone really _does_ cure hiccups."

Jack's answering smile was slow in coming, but worth the wait. Carter watched his eyes light up, chasing the last of his reserved mask away, reflecting the smile that spread across his face.

O'Neill let out a barely perceptible sigh. It was okay. She's made it okay for him. And she seemed okay with his...whatever that was. He was a damned lucky man.

"Anytime, Carter. Anytime."

O'Neill let the last of his mask slip away as Carter released his gaze and settled back down onto her sleeping bag. She shifted and tugged until she was comfortable, resting her hands on her belly and laying her head back to watch the stars. Only when she was finished did Jack stretch out on his own bag, after carefully checking, as Carter had, to be sure his weapon was nearby. Mimicking Carter he folded his jacket into a pillow, setting it down near his 2IC's. If tonight he was closer to her than he usually was, neither mentioned it. Like his Captain, O'Neill lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, and watched the smoke from the fire trail lazily up to be swallowed by the sparkling night sky.


	5. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really am determined to have one story per episode if at all possible. Thanks to all who have been reviewing, that means so very much to me. This story didn't go where I intended, I think my muse has a mind of its own. A special note to JF (and her picky friend): I have, indeed, been lazy in my POV's and head-hopping. That should stop with this story and I thank you for the insightful and helpful critique.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set two days after _Thor's Chariot._

_  
**Boundaries**   
_

Sam Carter shifted again, trying to find a comfortable spot along the wall of the cave. Before her the small fire blazed cheerily, painting the cave walls with a muted yellow light. Olaf had pointed out the secluded corner earlier, telling her that she and Colonel O'Neill were welcome to build their fire there. Carter had done so while her CO accompanied Gairwyn and the other village leaders to survey the area. Sam added another small branch to the fire, feeding it slowly, building it to a level that would keep them warm this evening. The rugged walls of the hollowed-out room created deep shadows untouched by the fire. It was within one of those shadows that Carter had tucked herself, near enough to the fire to feel it's warmth, but far enough back that she could hide and just...watch.

It always amazed her how quickly the people they encountered on various worlds could just return to their everyday lives after a crises. Just two days ago she, along with her team and hundreds of residents of Cimmeria, had watched in amazement as Thor's ship had descended from a billowing, churning mass of clouds and simply...eliminated Heru'ur's ship and forces. Heru'ur had escaped, but his Jaffa had not. Now the only evidence of the "Etin" presence on Cimmeria was the scarred landscape of the former encampment. For their part, the Cimmerians seem to have adjusted to the living presence of their Norse God with an equanimity that baffled Sam.

Carter watched as a little girl, not more than eight years old, scrambled through the cave entrance to her mother's side, chattering brightly about her day. Behind the girl came Olaf, laughing at the child's enthusiasm and sweeping both woman and child into his embrace. Carter ducked further back into the shadows as Gairwyn and Colonel O'Neill entered, enjoying the opportunity to study her CO, unobserved. She caught her breath, surprised as always by the surge that shot through her at the sight of him. He stood framed in the doorway, the amber light of the evening highlighting his hair and throwing him into sharp relief against the outside light. The firelight from within the cave hadn't reached his features, but Carter would know his profile anywhere.

Sam sternly told her insides to settle down as she watched her CO casually glance around the cave, presumably looking for her. With a small sigh Sam leaned forward. She really wasn't feeling very sociable, but didn't want O'Neill worried about her whereabouts. O'Neill caught her eye and nodded as he stepped fully into the cave. Carter watched as his lips quirked in the familiar half-smile she'd grown so... _no, Sam, let that go._

"Everything okay, Carter?" O'Neill unclipped his vest and let it drop beside him. He looked around for something to sit on and, finding nothing suitable, folded himself down onto the cave floor next to his Second with a soft grunt.

"Yes, Sir."

"Mind staying here an extra night?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Sam was more surprised that O'Neill was asking her if she minded staying, rather than the extension of the trip itself. As CO, it was really entirely up to him. She shrugged and answered, "Uh, no, Sir. I don't mind."They were back on Cimmeria to allow Carter the opportunity to further explore Kendra's dwelling. Daniel and Teal'c had stayed behind, since the trip was simply a revisit to a 'safe' planet and they'd both been asked to work with SG3 for a weeklong project. O'Neill had hoped they'd find more Goa'uld artifacts, while Carter had secretly hoped they wouldn't. She didn't like the devices they'd already recovered and really didn't like that she could apparently make at least one of them work. Unfortunately for Earth's defenses, Carter's wish had come true. She waited to see if he'd explain further, but finally asked, "Mind if I ask why, Sir?"

"No, I don't mind." O'Neill caught Carter's gave and gave her a grin, his eyes twinkling. Finally he answered her. "Gairwyn says that the Asgard teacher might return tomorrow morning and I thought we might stick around to meet him. Her. Um...it."

"It, Sir?"

"Yeah, Gairwyn wasn't sure if Heimdahl was a 'he' or a 'she.'"

"Ah." Carter paused. "And, you're asking me...why?"

"Seemed like the polite thing to do, Captain. Wasn't sure if you had plans."

"No, Sir. No plans. No problem." Sam shied away from the thought that crept in. She'd much rather be sitting with her CO next to a campfire on a planet thousands of light-years away from Earth than sitting at home alone, talking to her plants.

The two sat in silence for a while, watching as the families around them prepared their meals and settled in for the evening. As much as Carter enjoyed trying new things, she was grateful that the Colonel had turned down offers by the others to share in their evening meal. The meat she'd seen hanging in the cave earlier today looked like the exact same animals she'd seen hanging in the cave two days earlier. Somehow the idea of 'air cured' meat was unappealing. As the smells of various dinners drifted through the cavern Sam realized that, aged beef or no, she was suddenly really hungry.

"Hungry, Carter?"

Surprised, Sam turned to him. How had he...Carter's stomach chose that moment to growl again, rather loudly.

O'Neill grinned and gestured to her noisy abdomen.

Sam bit back an embarrassed grin. "Yes, Sir. I'm going to heat up an MRE. How about you?"

"Sure, Captain. Feel free to heat one up for me, too." O'Neill leaned back against the cave wall and crossed his arms across his chest with a grin.

"Yes, Sir," Carter replied automatically. "It should just take a few minutes." With a sharp nod, Sam rose and began filling her small pot with water from her canteen. She was startled to feel O'Neill's hand on her arm, stopping her movements.

"Carter. Captain...relax. I was joking." Jack's voice was sharp, carrying an edge that Carter wasn't used to hearing from him.

"Sir?" Sam didn't understand. She was hungry and making herself food; her CO was probably just as hungry and had asked her to make his as well. Sam was so used to following orders that she didn't think twice about O'Neill's request to make his meal, too. It wasn't as if he never cooked for her.

Jack pulled the now full pan from Carter's hands. He waved his Second back to her seat beside him, a small frown pulling at his features. He was silent as he positioned the pot at the base of the fire, careful to keep the handle pointed away for easy access.

Sam sat back, silently studying him. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but knew her CO well enough to wait for him to tell her what was bothering him. Finally, O'Neill had the pot settled just right and turned to her, his face silhouetted against the light from the fire, his expression shadowed.

"Carter, I don't ever expect you to cook my food."

Now Sam was really confused. What was going on in her CO's head? "Sir?"

O'Neill sighed, clearly frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, his features closed and tight. He held out his hand and Sam silently took the hint and handed him her packaged dinner. She watched O'Neill dig through his own pack for his MRE and wondered if he'd mind if she hunted up silverware for both of them. Glancing again at his stiff features, she decided to wait.

"Carter...I don't ever want you to feel as if I'm ordering you to do...things."

"Things, Sir?" Carter shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I really don't understand what you're saying."

O'Neill carefully began to pour the hot water into the heavy-duty meal bags, his attention seemingly focused wholly on his task. Carter decided it was safe enough and pulled two spoons out of her pack. She handed one to him and began to gently stir her own meal after he handed it back to her.

"Why were you going to make my dinner?"

"Um...because I was hungry? I mean, I was making mine...and I assumed, since you asked, that you were too and wanted me to?" Sam's responses were more like questions, but she really had no idea what was going on in O'Neill's head.

"I was, and I did, but I didn't expect you to..." Jack stirred his own meal, clearly struggling with something.

Carter ate silently for a few moments, waiting for her Colonel to continue. Finally she'd had enough.

"Sir, what's going on?" She set her meal down and leaned forward, catching O'Neill's eye. "I don't understand. Why were you so upset by me making your dinner." She gave him a shy grin and continued. "You know, I'm not _that_ bad in the kitchen. I _can_ make a mean soufflé." She gestured toward their standard-issue meals and shrugged. "That said, how hard can it be to heat up an MRE?"

O'Neill gazed at her for a moment and Sam loosened the tight grip she kept on her emotions, allowing herself to enjoy the subtle current she could feel flowing between them. She was always aware of him, _Colonel_ O'Neill, but she rarely allowed herself to admit the attraction she felt for the man, _Jack_ O'Neill. Or to acknowledge the connection she had felt with him almost from the first day they'd met. Finally she saw a small smile slide across the Colonel face, accompanied by the slight wrinkling at the corners of his eyes as his expression softened.

"I'm sorry, Captain. Sorry...Carter." O'Neill paused for a moment, studying his meal. "It's important to me that you don't feel...that you don't...oh hell. I don't know. I just want you to know that you don't ever _have_ to cook my dinner for me. Or get me coffee. Or...any other stupid thing you think I'm asking you to do that doesn't relate to actual orders."

"Colonel...Sir. I don't get it. What's going on?"

O'Neill turned the full force of his brown eyes on her, his expression open and unguarded, and Sam felt her breath catch in her chest. Felt her heart stutter to a halt before resuming its rhythm again, faster and harder than before. She saw what she was feeling reflected in his eyes and knew that he was aware of his effect on her. Before she could duck her head in embarrassment over the realization that he was aware of her feelings...that he _shared_ them...he shook his head slightly, holding her gaze longer. In that moment she knew he was allowing her to see how he felt.

 _Oh._

 _Wow._

Jack's soft voice drew her attention back to him. "Carter it would be really easy for you to take my requests as...orders. And I don't want that. I don't want you to ever feel as if I'm ordering you to...That my requests are taken as anything other than..."

Sam firmly shook her head, not breaking their gaze. "Sir, I know you'd never ask...or order...anything that wasn't..." Carter trailed off, unsure of how to say what needed to be said. She took a deep breath and said firmly, "Colonel. I _trust_ you. When you asked me to cook your dinner tonight, you _asked_ me. I didn't feel pressured, and I've never _felt_ pressured, to...well..."

"Yes, I did ask. But I want you to know that you have every right to tell me to stuff it." O'Neill quirked a wider smile at his Captain. "Within reason, of course."

Carter returned his smile with one of her own, reveling in this brief moment of complete honesty between the two of them. She ducked her head and returned to her meal. "Of course, Sir. Within reason. Got it."

The two officers finished their meal in silence, then settled in for the evening. There was no need to keep watch tonight as the Cimmerians were handling that duty. Carter stepped outside the cave and washed the utensils they used while O'Neill set up their sleeping bags. She smiled gently when she saw that he'd placed his so that his head would be resting near hers, their legs extending in opposite directions around the fire. They'd slept that way on P9J-726 and Sam was glad to see her Colonel arranging them in that position again. Finished with the pot and spoons, Carter washed her face and got ready for bed. The other families in the cave had, like Colonel O'Neill, allowed their fires to burn down to embers for the night. The gentle pockets of light provide just enough illumination to guide Carter back to their spot. She picked her way around the sleeping families, returning to find her CO stretched out on his bag in the darkened cave.

Sam slid her boots off and stretched out, crossing her arms under her head, her elbow brushing O'Neill's as he lay on his own bag. She lay quietly, listening to his breathing, wondering if he was asleep yet.

"No, Carter, I'm still awake." O'Neill's whisper made her jump slightly.

"How'd you know what I was thinking, Sir?" Carter's voice was equally soft in the dark and silent cave.

"You think too loud, sometimes."

"Oh." Sam was quite for a moment. "Colonel? I was thinking..."

O'Neill's soft chuckle made Carter grin in the darkness. "I believe we've already established that, Carter."

"Yes, Sir. I just wanted to say...thank you."

"For?"

"For...um...caring enough to tell me that it's okay to...tell you to 'stuff it.' Sir."

"Within reason, Captain." O'Neill mock-growled softly.

"Of course, Colonel." Sam was silent again for a longer time. "The thing is, Sir, that...well...I don't really mind, you know?"

"Mind? Telling me to–"

"No. Not that." Sam rolled over onto her stomach, turned her face toward O'Neill, resting her head on her hands. She could barely make out the shape of her Colonel's head in the darkness against the wall of the cave, but she could feel him...so very close. "Sir, unlike some of my other CO's, you have _never_ asked me to do anything you wouldn't do yourself. So...if you ask me to make your dinner–on a mission, of course–or...whatever...I know that the next time it'll be _you_ doing the cooking. Or whatever." Sam heard O'Neill shift beside her and sensed that he'd turned to face her. She tried not to think about the fact that his face was just...inches from her own. "And...as for...well...anything _else_...Sir. You could never ask me to do anything I wasn't...willing...to do."

O'Neill was silent for a long moment, long enough that Carter Sam swallowed, afraid she'd said too much.

Finally she heard a gentle sigh beside her, felt the puff of her CO's breath across her face.

"Thank you, Carter. I appreciate that."

"So do I, Sir. So do I."


	6. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My deepest apologies to everyone who has been reading, and most especially to those who have been reviewing. I broke my right wrist on 9/15 and have been in a cast until two days ago (10/30). I'm still in a brace but allowed to remove it for small windows of time (and I'm using those windows to write g). Thank you for your patience and understanding and especially for the great reviews. I answer (and save) every one, they mean more to me than you know. Extra thanks to the inestimable JenniferF (you can find her amazing fic on my "favorite author's page) for her quick beta work on this piece. Her input made things flow a bit better, all mistakes are mine. This is the longest _Campfire_ yet and seems to have taken on a bit of a life of it's own in the telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set a week after the ending of _Message in a Bottle_. Once again, we have another on-Earth campfire...simply because, after living for seven weeks with a cast on my wrist, I've discovered that some of the simplest tasks are no longer...simple.

_  
**Reaching Out**   
_

Jack O'Neill grimaced as he adjusted the sling holding left arm immobile against his side. Frasier had insisted that he wear it despite his shoulder showing no lingering injury following his impalement in the gateroom the week before. Twisting his neck again, he yanked his collar free of the blue Velcro that seemed to only stick to his neck and uniform and not to the material of the sling itself. _Damned thing._ O'Neill glanced up and down the empty hallway and, with a small smirk, began to slide his arm free of its entrapment.

"Damn it! Don't you _dare!"_ The woman's sharp voice sliced through the darkened corridor, startling him.

O'Neill froze guiltily, hunching his shoulders in automatic response. He snuck a quick glance behind him, then turned fully around, his expression puzzled. There was nobody in his hallway. In fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't remember inviting Frasier to team night.

"Crap!" A loud bang followed that comment, chased immediately by another angry outburst. "Ow! Damn it!"

O'Neill's eyebrows rose to his hairline as he recognized the angry voice. Taking another two steps down the hall, Jack halted before the door of his guest bathroom. Inside he could hear small thumps and thuds accompanied by the occasional curse word. He smiled, those were words he wasn't used to hearing from her. Another inventive expletive popped forth, turning his smile into a rare, full-fledged grin. Ooh, he hadn't been aware she'd even known _that_ phrase. It had been a favorite of Kowalsky's and Jack wondered when, exactly, Carter had picked it up. He took another step forward and tapped lightly on the door.

"Carter? You okay?"

A muffled thump was his only answer, followed by a quieter grumbling. Now O'Neill was concerned; this wasn't behavior he was used to from Carter. Sure, like everyone else she got angry, but she had never, as far as he was aware, thrown a tantrum. O'Neill knocked louder on the door.

"Carter!"

"Sir?"

"You okay in there?"

"Um...yes. Yes, Sir. Just fine."

She didn't sound fine to him. After a year and a half together, Jack liked to think he had a good handle on most things 'Carter.' The Carter he was hearing now was about four steps short of 'fine' by his measure.

"Look, Carter, I...are you sure?"

A loud crash was his only answer and O'Neill panicked. "That's it, I'm coming in."

Carter's frantic voice froze him with his hand on the knob, the other on the wooden frame.

"No! Sir, you can't! I'm, um..." Carter's voice faded away and O'Neill could hear the frustration in her voice. Frustration accompanied by a tone he wasn't used to hearing from his 2IC. It almost sounded like she was near tears. Jack sighed and leaned against the doorframe, absently tucking his cast-off sling into his pocket. He was glad that Daniel and Teal'c hadn't yet arrived. Something was bothering her and he didn't think she'd want an audience.

"Carter...Sam. What's going on?" O'Neill couldn't fathom what had possibly set off his normally steady 2IC. She'd arrived here not long after he'd gotten home, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, her BDU overshirt hanging on her arm. She'd muttered something about needing a shower and he'd casually waved her toward the guest bath while heading to his own room to change. She'd been here often enough that he was sure she could find what she needed on her own. Once changed, Jack had gone outside the light the logs he'd laid in the firepit, happily watching the dry wood catch and blaze for a few minutes while he waited for his team to join him.

Jack knocked again on the door, concerned that Carter hadn't yet answered. He checked his watch and raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was nearly 8:15, much later than he'd thought. _Damn._ Where the hell were Daniel and Teal'c? Other than the short message he'd gotten earlier, he hadn't heard from them for over an hour. Fishing his cell from his pocket, he scowled as he saw that the battery was dead. Again. _Crap, forgot to charge it._ Behind the door he could hear Carter moving around, still talking to herself. When he heard her whimper, he snapped upright, instinctively opening the door. Something was hurting his Second and he was going to find out what the deal was.

A flash of blonde hair and pale skin blurred past his gaze before his eyes automatically snapped shut. _Oh shit. Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!_

" _Sir!"_ Carter's frantic voice filtered through the screaming in his head and Jack quickly spun back to face the door.

"God, Carter. I'm _so_ sorry! I heard you, um, well, make a noise, and I thought...shit. I'm leaving now."

"Wait. Sir." Behind him he could hear her moving around, her bare feet slapping softly on the floor. "I, ah, need a hand. Quite literally. No! Wait! Don't turn around...not yet."

O'Neill leaned his forehead against the door, carefully keeping his eyes closed. In a million years he'd never expected to find himself alone with his Second...his mostly _naked_ Second...in his guest bathroom. Crap, this could kill both of their careers, but especially hers. Carter's soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Okay, Sir. It's safe. Well, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Yes. Promise."

O'Neill turned slowly toward where he knew she had been standing and carefully opened his eyes. Before him sat his lovely Second perched on the edge of the bathtub, dressed in faded blue Academy sweatpants and with her feet stuffed carelessly into her unlaced sneakers. Looking closer he saw that she hadn't bothered with socks. From the waist up she was wearing...a towel over a...tank top? One hand held the towel securely around her torso while her other hand rested in her lap. That hand, her right O'Neill realized, was covered from fingertip to elbow in a bright blue cast.

"Carter, what the hell?" O'Neill shook his head and carefully sat beside her on the bench. "You, ah, weren't broken when I left you, were you?"

Sam shook her head, her still-damp hair flinging cold droplets of water onto both of them. "Sorry, Colonel." She half-heartedly swiped at the drops on her shoulder and shrugged, grimacing at the hand resting on her lap. "I went to lock up my lab and ran into Dr. Adams. Literally. I guess I 'zigged' when I should have 'zagged.' Sir."

"You're kidding. Broken?"

"Yes."

"Damn. Okay, that I get, but...?" O'Neill waved his arm at her getup and the still foggy bathroom.

Carter sighed. "Dr. Adams was carrying...well, let's just say it was an experiment."

"Oh."

"So, I needed a shower. Figured you'd rather I did team night not smelling like...well, I'm not sure what it was, but..."

O'Neill wrinkled his nose, the lingering scent of the botanist's experiment was what had been tickling his senses since he'd entered the small room. Carter's shampoo nearly drowned it out; the subtle strawberry scent she used certainly had distracted O'Neill from noticing the other aroma sooner. He gestured again to Carter's outfit. "I get that, but..."

Carter ducked her head, carefully avoiding O'Neill's gaze.

Jack tried to ignore the tingle of desire that swept through him as he watched the blush slowly crawl up his Second's long neck and disappear into her hairline. Everything about their current situation was baffling to him, but most especially why she was still covering herself with a towel. After all, she was wearing a tank top, and... Jack looked a little closer.

 _Oh. Ohhhhhhh._

Firmly telling his inner voice to pipe down, Jack averted his gaze. Carter was wearing a tank top and apparently nothing under it. A very _small_ tank top. He glanced again at her face, startled to find her blue eyes staring back at him.

"I, ah..." Carter took a breath. "Daniel here yet?" She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, the towel still tucked firmly under her upper arms.

"Ah, no. He left a message saying he and Teal'c were stopping to pick up dinner."

"Oh. Great."

"Yup." Jack looked around the room, noting the piled BDU's resting under a wet trash bag. He tried not to notice the bra lying haphazardly on the floor, as if flung there. A bra that was most notably not currently on his Second. "So, um, the thumping and swearing?"

"Well...I um, couldn't fasten my, uh...bra. Then, I sort of lost control of it and it...ah, sort of...flew..."

O'Neill faced Carter, clearly puzzled. Why wouldn't she be able to hang onto...his eyes traveled again to the bulky cast completely encompassing her thumb and partially covering her remaining four digits and he bit back a chuckle. _'...sort of...flew..._.' Oh. That's why. Well, he certainly didn't mind if... _no, Jack, we stay away from that thought._

"Carter, I'm no expert, but I could, um..."

Sam quickly cut him off. "Sir? Do you have a sweatshirt I could borrow? I only have this tank, and it's kind of...well...and since Daniel's not here to, ah, help..."

"Oh! Sure. No problem. Wait right here." O'Neill absently patted Carter's knee and quickly headed toward his room. He rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a sweatshirt he though would work for Sam. Returning to the bathroom Jack found himself facing another tantalizing view of his Second as she bent low, awkwardly trying to retrieve her soiled clothing from the floor. This certainly seemed to be his lucky night.

"For cryin' out loud, Carter, let me." O'Neill pulled her out of the bathroom, absently handing her his sweatshirt. He quickly picked up her discarded clothes and stuffed them, errant bra and all, into the trash bag she'd obviously used to cover her cast while showering. Behind him he heard Carter start to giggle.

"I thought we'd talked about the giggling, Captain."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry." Sam bit back another laugh as she smoothed the too-large shirt down over her abdomen with her good hand. The green fabric was faded almost to grey and the silkscreened Minnesota Wild logo and slogan chipped and worn in spots. "' _Wild Thing_ '? Really?"

Jack smiled, pleased to see Sam in a better mood. "Sure. That so hard to believe?" He kicked the bag against the wall and steered Carter down the hall toward the kitchen. "Come on, the fire's a-wastin' and the guys should be here soon."

They stopped in the kitchen to grab drinks and snacks, Carter trying to juggle her drink, the bag of chips and her cast. O'Neill winced as he heard his Doritos breaking as she pinned the bag to her side. He rescued the bag and snagged his beer, waving Carter outside just as the phone rang. Jack absently listened to Daniel's flustered and rambling conversation as he watched Carter make her way across his darkened lawn toward the now brightly blazing fire.

Inserting "mmhmm's" and "yeps's" into appropriate places in Daniel's discourse, Jack watched Sam settle into her favorite spot by the firepit. Christ, what a week it had been. The object Daniel called a 'time capsule' waking up and nailing him to the gateroom wall. The seemingly endless hours of heat and pain as his team–and the rest of the SGC personnel–worked frantically to save him. Jack's memories of the last few moments of the alien being's presence in his body was hazy at best, but a few moments stood out clearly. And now this, Carter broken for the foreseeable future.

" _Jack?"_

"What? Oh, sorry, Daniel."

" _I said, the tow guy should be here soon to fix the flats, and then we'll be on our way."_

"Good, fine. See you when you get here." Jack set the portable aside and quickly joined Carter outside. She sat with her head tilted back, broken wrist resting gently on her lap, her still untied sneakered feet extended toward the fire, legs crossed at the ankle.

"That was Daniel. He had a flat and I guess his spare is flat as well. They're waiting for triple-A to get there."

"Okay." Carter's voice was flat, almost too quiet for him to hear. Jack slid down into his normal place alongside Carter, their backs supported by the picnic bench. She scooted over slightly to give him room on the tattered blanket cushioning her from the hard ground.

Jack studied her, noting how she cradled her newly casted wrist in her left hand. He knew she was tired, they all were. It had been a long week for all of them, but somehow he knew it had been hardest on her. Carter, like him, took her responsibilities to heart, and in his absence–and especially with him injured–she had taken it on herself to fix the problem. To save him. O'Neill set his drink aside and slowly reached out, his fingers tenderly brushing hers where they poked out of the cast.

"Okay? Hurt a lot?"

"Hmm? Yeah. I mean no. I'm okay and I don't hurt too much...just an ache, you know?" Sam wiggled her fingers in response to his touch, turning her head on the bench to smile at her CO.

"What'd Frasier say?"

Carter's smile turned to a wry grimace. "Six weeks, minimum, then light duty. I broke the scaphoid clean through. 'Non-displaced,' and she said she's going to have to take the cast off every two weeks to x-ray it."

"At least you'll get a fresh one then." Jack quirked a small smile at Sam, raising an eyebrow. "You know, cut down on the icky 'cast arm' smell."

"Yes, I guess so, Sir."

Jack noticed that she hadn't moved her fingers away from his own, and he was glad. That was one of the clearest memories he had of that horrific time last week. Pinned to the wall in the darkened gateroom, perched, mercifully, on a tall stool taking most of his weight. Through the haze of pain and waves of heat he'd felt her. Marveled at the sensation of her cool, dry hand sliding easily into his. She'd spoken to him but he hadn't heard the words, only the warm tones of her voice. He'd felt her soft hand holding his, her thumb soothingly caressing the backs of his fingers. That feeling, the strength he'd gotten from those fleeting moments with her had sustained him, had gotten him through. Jack gently squeezed her fingers, bringing her gaze up to his.

"I don't remember much about last week, but I remember...this. Thank you." He slid his fingertips lightly across her own, pressing gently one last time before letting his hand fall away. Jack watched as a sad smile slowly crept across Carter's face. They hadn't had much time this week to catch up, which was one of the reasons he'd wanted this team night. In fact, now that he though about it, he hadn't spent more than twenty minutes in Carter's company–unless you counted official briefings–all week. O'Neill narrowed his gaze and lifted his chin slightly. "What's going on, Carter?"

Her eyes reflected her sorrow as she studied him. When she spoke he had to lean close to hear her, her voice was low and rough. "Do you remember...what I had to do?"

"What do you mean?"

Carter swallowed hard, her eyes dropping from his. She clenched her left hand in her lap, her fingers unconsciously playing with the edges of her cast. She began picking at it in agitation, her fingers worrying at the soft cotton that edged the blue fibers.

O'Neill pulled her hand away, preventing her from undoing Frasier's recent hard work. "Oh no, you don't get to take it off yet. _I'm_ the only member of our team who gets to annoy Frasier. I remember you...everyone...being there for me. Teal'c, Daniel, Hammond, and the needle-bearer." Jack brushed her fingers again, asking, "What else am I supposed to remember, Carter?"

Sam ducked her head and said softly, "I had to...you had no pul... It was _my_ decision." Frustrated and angry with herself, Sam shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Everything I tried, every decision I made...made it worse. Even Hammond...finally, we... _I_...decided to...end it. you were _dead_. I did that."

"No."

"Yes, I did. Sir."

"Carter... _no_." O'Neill let go of Carter's hand and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He had read the report, hell, he'd had nothing else to do while waiting for Frasier to release him. He knew what had gone on, and even more, he was very able to read between the lines and he knew what Carter had done. Had been forced to do. Jack struggled to find the words he needed to stay and still maintain that line between them. That very necessary line.

 _Oh, hell, Jack. Who are you kidding? That line is so far behind you..._

He shook his head slightly, chasing his thoughts away. "Sam. You did no less than your duty and so much more. I know. _I_ know. I've been there too, remember? When Jolinar...I had to..." Jack trailed off and took a deep breath, giving himself a second to gather his thoughts. He looked up and found Carter's gaze intent on his, her beautiful blue eyes shadowed with pain. "You...this time, you were...lucky, in a way." He winced at her flinch of pain, knowing he wasn't getting his point across. Damn it, he was no good at this 'talking' stuff!

"Carter, there was no trigger to pull, no hallway full of personnel watching you _choose to shoot_ a member of your team. Choosing between your duty and your Second, someone who _trusted_ you. Someone who..." Jack watched as her eyes filled with tears, the memory of him pointing a zat at her and pulling the trigger–despite her pleading–overwhelming them both. He reached his thumb up and gently wiped away the single tear that slowly tracked its way down her cheek. "What I'm trying to say, and very badly I might add, is that...I've been there. I know what you had to do, what you went through to make your decision. I do, believe me. You did the right thing, Sam. Captain. Never doubt that. I don't."

Sam sniffed and closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into O'Neill's hand. He cupped her face soothingly, reveling in this quiet, stolen moment. He knew, just as he knew she did, that moments like these were the exception, far, far from the norm. Commanding officer's couldn't and didn't wipe their Second's tears, shouldn't give in to the need to offer quiet comfort. Somehow, though, 'couldn't', 'didn't,' and 'shouldn't' fell by the wayside with this team. What they had was special, and what he and Carter had...well, that went beyond special. He knew it. He was certain Carter knew it. She trusted him; trusted that he'd never push, just as he expected...no, _needed_ , the same from her. O'Neill watched with no small amount of pride as she collected herself.

With a final sniffle, Sam lifted her head from his caress, using her uninjured hand to wipe away the last of her tears. She sat up a bit straighter and turned, squarely meeting his gaze, the last of her pain slipping away. Carter offered him a small smile and sipped her diet cola as she pulled her legs back from the fire and tucked them under herself for warmth. With a final, rueful glance at her cast, she hunched her shoulder and maneuvered it up into the sleeve of her borrowed sweatshirt, folding the cuff down around her fingers for warmth. She glanced again at the faded logo on her chest and smiled softly.

O'Neill retrieved his beer and took a drink, enjoying this chance to sit quietly with Carter and idly wondering if he'd ever get that sweatshirt back. He didn't mind, it certainly looked better on her than it had ever looked on him. She'd be okay, her broken wrist would force the team into some much-needed downtime. He'd see to it, with the help of the rest of the team, that Carter didn't spend all of her enforced on-Earth time in her lab. Maybe he would enlist Janet and Cassie's help too. Beside him, Sam shifted position again, her movement bringing her closer, her shoulder just brushing his. He glanced down at her, glad to see the lines of pain and tension that had been so evident before now gone. He bumped against her shoulder and smiled at her.

"Hey, did I tell you? Teal'c told a joke."

Sam's quiet snort of surprise brought an answering grin to O'Neill's features and her gentle chuckles joined his as he shared Teal'c's humor with her. Their voices, his deeper and hers softer and lighter, blended into the sounds of the night as they sat together, waiting for their teammates to join them.


	7. Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: "Hammond of Texas, will you give me leave to enter your compound?" :: sniff :: I miss General Hammond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during _Family_.

_  
**Worth It**   
_

Captain Carter squinted in the shadowy light, her eyes unable to clearly distinguish the features of the strange room in the darkness. The fire had been allowed to burn low, lower than she was comfortable with, truthfully, being in a strange place. Sam shifted again, attempting to get comfortable on thin pallet Drey'auc had provided. She moved slowly, trying not to wake the others. Well, trying not to wake the Colonel, since Teal'c wasn't with them. Judging by the volume of Daniel's snores nothing short of a C4 detonation would disturb _his_ sleep. Sam sighed softly and readjusted herself again.

"Can't sleep, Carter?"

O'Neill's soft whisper startled her, she'd thought he was fast asleep. She'd watched her CO confer quietly with Teal'c at the end of his turn at watch then crawl into his own sleeping bag. O'Neill had, as was his usual practice, placed his bag near hers, his head resting near her own.

"Carter?"

"Yes, Sir." Carter's whisper was just as soft as O'Neill's. The intensity of Daniel's snores aside, she didn't want to wake the rest of the household. "I mean, no, Sir. Can't sleep."

"You okay?"

"Yes, Sir. Fine."

"Then why can't you sleep?"

Sam sighed softly and rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her crossed hands. Her change in position brought her closer to O'Neill's spot, her left elbow just brushing the ornate stone screen that shielded their impromptu sleeping area from the rest of the room. In the near-darkness she could barely make the shape of out her Colonel's head, the faint light from the glowing embers giving his brown hair a gilt-edged auburn glow. A barely audible rustling signaled O'Neill's change in position and Carter's bangs ruffled as he blew out a breath, echoing her own sigh. She didn't want to get into what was bothering her, at least not with her CO. Today's revelations–Drey'auc's 'divorcing' Teal'c in his absence–brought back too many bad memories. No, she didn't need to share that with her boss.

"C'mon, Captain. Spill."

"Something about all of this seems...off, Sir." _Deflection...that should work._

"In what way?"

"I don't know, Colonel. Just...something." Sam shrugged despite knowing that O'Neill couldn't see her movement in the dark. She hoped he'd buy her explanation and leave it at that.

"That it?"

 _Guess not._ Sam blew out another breath, trying to see him, hoping to see his expression. The two of them communicated so well nonverbally that she sometimes preferred their method to spoken conversation. Add to that his–and her own, if she was honest–ability to say so very much with just a slight variation in tone, they carried on entire conversations with a minimum of words and subtle changes in facial expression. However, it was hard to read a person's emotional state in a conversation held only in whispers, especially in the dark.

O'Neill had waited long enough. "I thought as much. C'mon, Carter, what's keeping you up this fine evening?"

"It's nothing, Sir. Just..." Sam swallowed hard, surprised by the sudden flood of anger and embarrassment that flowed through her. "I...well... Sir, have you ever...I mean, did you ever...?"

"What, Carter?"

"No, Sir. Never mind."

"Carter, I don't 'never mind' very well, you should know that by now." Sam jumped slightly as his hand brushed across the top of her head briefly. "Sorry, thought I was getting your shoulder. Kind of dark in here."

Sam closed her eyes as his fingers threaded once through her bangs before leaving. She kept her eyes closed and tried not to wish for him to touch her again.

"Carter... Sam. I know we're a zillion or so light years from home, but I need you sharp. And if you're distracted or upset, you're not sharp. So, spill."

Sam tensed, her eyes flashing open and narrowing, even though he wouldn't see it. "Sir. Colonel. I can still do my job–"

His hand returned, this time directly to her shoulder. _How the hell does he know, in the dark?_ O'Neill squeezed gently, then gave it a little shake before letting go, his hand sliding down her arm briefly. "Carter. Captain Carter, _relax_. I know you can do the job, Captain, or you wouldn't be here." Beside her O'Neill exhaled quietly, his breath again fluttering across Sam's face and ruffling her bangs. "Come on, Sam, what's the deal?"

Sam let her eyes slip closed again, giving in to her need for comfort. She shouldn't need it, couldn't ask for it, from him. From her CO. But sometimes shouldn't and couldn't had to be put aside. She didn't like to admit how much she needed comfort, _his_ comfort. Especially with this. But this time...he was insisting... She started softly, almost too quietly for O'Neill to catch. "It's just that...the whole thing with Teal'c, Sir. Drey'auc, I mean. I know, intellectually I _know_ , that she had every right to...what was it? 'Have the marriage removed'? But it brought back some stuff, you know?"

"Captain Hansen?"

"Yes."

Daniel snorted suddenly, loudly in the quiet night, interrupting them. They waited, listening as he grunted and rolled over, mumbling something about tablets and inscriptions before settling down again. After a minute or so, his snores resumed again.

Jack chuckled softly at Daniel before turning back to Sam. "I'm sorry, Sam, I'm not sure I get it."

"When I was at the Pentagon I worked some really crazy hours." Sam smiled at O'Neill's soft snort. True, the hours at the Pentagon were a picnic compared to their schedule at the SGC, but back then... "Yeah, I know. Anyway, Jon– Captain Hansen felt that I was putting in too much time and he made no secret of his feelings. One afternoon I thought I'd surprise him. I came home to find him, ah...

"In flagrante delicious?

Despite her pain, Sam smiled. "That's 'delicto,' Sir. And yes. With one of my colleagues."

"Ouch. Surprise."

"Yeah. She was my best friend, too complete the cliché..." Carter stopped, realizing she sounded a bit like a lovesick teenager. "So...long story short, he blamed me."

"You're kidding."

"No, Sir. I'm not."

Sam opened her eyes as O'Neill twisted around, mimicking Sam's pose–his head resting on his own crossed hands, his face inches from hers. Now she could see his features, could make out the shine of his eyes in the firelight. Sam gave in and stared into them, hoping it was too dark for him to notice her unwavering attention.

"Stop it."

She reared her head back slightly, startled. "Sir?" _Shit...guess if I could see his eyes, he could see mine! Shit._

"Sorry, Carter. I meant, 'stop it,' as in, stop blaming yourself. If that's, ah, what you were doing." O'Neill's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Yes, Sir. I mean, no. I did, at first, then I got mad. Really mad. But mostly I felt...betrayed. And stupid. I wondered how long it had been going on. Then I wonder if it'll happen to me again. Those thoughts just chase each other around in my head." Sam was silent for a moment, listening to the pop and sizzle of the logs as they burned through the night, accompanied by the baritone rumble of Daniel's snoring. "I don't think about it much at all anymore, Sir, it's just that the whole Fro'tak, Teal'c, and Drey'auc..."

"Yeah. That whole cuckoo thing."

"Anyway, that's why I couldn't sleep."

"Hmm." Jack frowned slightly his expression clear to Carter as close as they were lying. "What were you going to ask me, earlier?"

Sam blushed, grateful for the darkness that hid her reaction. Even this close he wouldn't see her features redden in the darkness. "Um, it's not important, Sir. Out of line, even. Never...I mean, if you don't mind, I–"

O'Neill cut her off, his whispered answer breaking slightly. "No. If you're asking if I ever... I never...ah... If anyone had a right–if that's the right word–to, it was my ex, Sara. Talk about never being there, that was me. And, as far as I know, she never..." Jack cleared his throat, seemingly at a loss for words.

Now Sam was squirming. She'd had no right to bring it up and really, _really_ didn't want to think about her CO and his ex. "As I said, Sir. Really none of my business, I'm _so_ sorry I...um...sorry."

"It's okay, Sam. It's been an odd day."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry if I woke you, Colonel."

"You didn't, really. I was awake too, thinking about...Teal'c. And Ry'ac. Like you, I think something's hinky here." As Carter had earlier, O'Neill lay silently for a while, then added very quietly, "For what it's worth...Sam..."

Sam waited silently, hardly daring to breathe. Finally, just when she thought he wouldn't say anything else, O'Neill continued, his voice so low she had to strain to hear it.

"Hansen is... _was_...an idiot. Some...things...are very worth waiting for. Especially you." With that, O'Neill rolled onto his side, his back to the fire and his face turned away from Sam.

Carter lay still, frozen in surprise, replaying their exchange in her head. His last words chased all other thoughts from her head and she let them roll in an endless loop, analyzing every nuance from his side of their whispered conversation. The fire's embers slowly burned lower, darkening the room further as the night crept on, ever deeper and more silent. Even Daniel's snores had quieted and Sam finally felt her eyes growing heavy. She turned her head, resting her cheek on her hands, and facing her CO's figure where he lay silhouetted against the carved partition. Very faintly she whispered, "For what it's worth? From you, Sir, it's worth a lot." Giving in at last to her body's need for sleep, Sam let her eyes drift shut.

Beside her, his own eyes wide open and staring into the darkness, a slow smile slid across Jack O'Neill's features.


	8. Simple Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two for the price of one! Two stories that related to _Family_. I couldn't not do this second one. I don't remember reading any fanfic that deals with Jack's action at the end of _Family_ , his giving a baseball glove to Ry'ac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set just after _Family_ , on Earth.

_  
**Simple Gifts**   
_

Jack paused in the doorway of the guest room, shaking his head as Daniel fell onto the mattress and immediately began snoring. He really had to watch how much the archaeologist drank at these things. Odd as it was to have held a team night without Teal'c, Jack was glad Daniel had insisted on it. Jack had grilled steaks while he and Carter whipped up a salad and the three of them had enjoyed a relaxing evening together. Despite his reservations, it had turned out to be a fun night, even with Daniels getting tipsy. _One beer! How can a guy get wasted on one beer!_ Jack had guided their errant teammate up to the house and into the guest room, already mentally rearranging sleeping accommodations. With Daniel passed out and sleeping in her usual spot, he'd just put Carter in his bed...his _room..._ and he'd take the couch. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept there.

 _Speaking of Carter..._ Jack grabbed another beer for himself and a bottle of soda for his Second. He slid open the glass patio door and grabbed the two sweatshirts draped over the back of the chair before stepping out to join his Second. He wasn't sure when it had started, this tradition of Carter being the 'last man standing' after their team nights, but he wasn't going to protest–he secretly looked forward to these rare moments alone with her.

Joining Sam, Jack sat down and bit back a groan as he knees protested the deep bend necessary to get down on the ground. He really needed to come up with better seats around this firepit, especially since it seemed to be Carter's favorite part of his property. At least Daniel had built a decent fire tonight. He'd hauled more than enough logs from the cord of wood Jack kept alongside the house, much more than they'd burn this evening. Without Teal'c, and with Daniel's inability to hold liquor, the fire they had going now was more than two people needed and would burn for hours if Jack let it.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Jack tipped his head back to rest atop the picnic bench that supported them both. God, what a week it had been. He'd hated, simply _hated_ doubting Teal'c boy. He'd seen the anger, the betrayal in Teal'c's eyes when he'd asked Carter to examine Ry'ac. It had been worse when his fears had proven correct, that the boy had, indeed, been sent as a weapon against Earth. Jack sighed again, drawing Carter's concerned attention.

"Colonel?"

"Sorry, Carter. Long week."

"I know, I was just wondering if you were going to share one of the sweatshirts you brought out with you." She offered him a smile.

"Oh. Sorry, sure. Here." O'Neill handed Carter the faded green sweatshirt she had appropriated for use at his house and watched as she pulled it on. He helped her slide it down her back, absently smoothing his hand down her back. Carter smiled her thanks and settled back in against the bench. Jack kept his own sweatshirt bunched on his lap, his thoughts once again returning to Ry'ac.

 _Standing outside of the small room, Jack returned Teal'c's nod through the barred window. The shock of the Zat gun had done the trick. The hours spent sitting with the rest of his team outside of that small room, listening to the child spew Apophis' lies and hate at Teal'c and Drey'auc had almost undone him. Jack's only comfort had been the brush of Carter's arm against his as she'd joined him on bench, offering her silent support. She'd been amazing, comforting Drey'auc when Ry'ac's anger had become too much for the boy's mother; offering O'Neill a look or a reassuring smile when he needed it._

 _Jack stood silently, staring through the bars of the small window, watching the now reunited family get reacquainted. As hard as it had been, he envied Teal'c. He had his boy back. Ry'ac was only a little older than Charlie... Jack heard the others leave, everyone except Carter. This time it was her hand brushing his as she stepped up beside him, once again silently offering her support. This time he wasn't sure if her contact was for her or for him. God, Teal'c had his boy back...how he wished..._

Carter's soft voice pulled O'Neill back to the present. "You, okay, Sir?"

"Yeah, I think I am." _I will be._

Carter sat quietly, absently poking the still-blazing fire with a stick. She studied O'Neill for a moment, her eyes searching his. Finally she set the stick aside and tucked her fingers inside of the sleeves of her borrowed sweatshirt. She asked gently, "That was Charlie's glove, wasn't it?

Jack didn't say anything. He slowly turned to face his Second, his eyes catching hers and holding them. In his turn he studied her, admiring how dark her normally bright eyes were in the dancing light of the fire, the gentle, sympathetic smile that played across her expressive lips. His own quirked in response.

"Can't get much past you, can I?"

"No, Sir." Sam continued to hold his gaze, enjoying this rare moment of peace and companionship, then raised an eyebrow. "Does Teal'c know?"

"No. Well, at least, I don't think so. _I_ didn't tell him. It wasn't something..."

"I guess not."

The fire popped, drawing their attention back to the blaze. Carter handed O'Neill her improvised fire poker and he set about rearranging the logs, his thoughts returning to Teal'c. It was hard not to envy the Jaffa; Jack didn't begrudge Teal'c his happiness, it was just...he sighed again.

"He might want to know, you know...someday."

"It's just a glove, Carter."

"If you say so, Sir."

"I do."

Together they watched the fire burn, O'Neill absently jiggling the logs, causing the flames to flare occasionally. He was glad he'd given the glove to the boy, he realized. It was time. Jack felt Carter wiggle a bit beside him, and he leaned in, offering a warm shoulder. "Cold, Sam?"

Carter's voice when she answered was hesitant, almost cautious. "Um, no, Sir." She cleared her throat nervously, then pulled a bulky package out from under the picnic table. Sam cleared her throat again before hesitantly offering the package to her CO.

With a puzzled frown, O'Neill took it from her, immediately recognizing what it was by it's shape. With shaking fingers he unwrapped the present. Inside lay an older fielder's glove, the lacings worn and stretched with age, the leather darkened with many years of use and care. Jack glanced up at Sam, confusion evident on his sculpted features.

Sam laced her fingers together, but not before O'Neill noticed their shaking. She coughed then slowly lifted her gaze to Jack's. "It's, um, my Dad's, Sir. Well, it's mine now, but it was his. I've had it for years, even used it myself when I was in school. I thought...well, _somebody's_ got to teach Ry'ac that it isn't a hat. Sir."

O'Neill was speechless. Carter's dad? He'd never really thought about it, but she must have one, right? _Of course she does, you moron, unless..._ "Um, Carter, is your dad, um...?"

"Hmm? Oh! Oh, no, Sir. He's very much alive, just waiting to retire."

"I don't know what to say, Carter... _Sam_. I...thank you." O'Neill was unbelievably touched by the gift. It was just like her to give him something so sweetly generous, so _telling_ –of herself; to give him _exactly_ what he needed. And to him. Why him? He couldn't take Carter's dad's glove. "Ah, Carter, I...you should keep this, you know? It should stay in your family...you know...for someday...?"

"I wanted to." Sam shared a long look with him before returning her attention to the fire. "I wanted to," she repeated quietly.

Jack stared at the glove in his lap, his fingers gently caressing the well-loved leather, his vision blurring slightly. He watched Carter play with the edges of her sweatshirt, studiously avoiding his gaze. Finally he nudged her shoulder, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she did he smiled, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. "Thanks, Sam. Really."

Sam gave him a tender smile in return, then nudged his shoulder in response. She didn't move away, choosing instead to remain against him, her shoulder pressed to his. "It's just a glove, Sir."

"If you say so, Carter."

"I do."


	9. Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for jhalya, a faithful reviewer who wrote and specifically asked for _"(ohplease ohpleaseohplease)write a story about the aftermath of jack meeting sam's dad for the first time!"_. So, I did. I hope you enjoy it. As always, reviews are lovingly saved and always answered. This was an especially poignant one for me to write, as my own birth father is dying of a brain tumor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set following _Secrets_.

" _ **Dad"**_

Jack tossed another thick, gnarled log onto the brightly blazing fire before joining Carter on the long flat rock that had been placed near the fire circle. He reached for the meal Carter handed him, nodding his thanks. It had been a long day, but a good one. He loved coming to Abydos. Daniel had argued, and O'Neill had agreed, that they should return to be sure there had been no complications following the departure of Apophis and Amonet. Daniel had also wanted to check on the child, to be sure he was doing well with his wet-nurse. Hammond agreed and the team had arrived early this morning, Abydos-time. Jack poked again at his MRE, frowning slightly. He glanced over at Carter to see what she had. She, knowing what he was doing, she tipped her container slightly toward him so that he could see she was eating the exact same meal. Teal'c and Daniel had apparently already finished theirs, so there would be no trading tonight. Jack grimaced and gamely dug in. The faster he ate it, the less he'd taste.

Daniel looked up from the journal in which he was writing. "Oh, I forgot. Jack, Sam, how was the awards ceremony? Did the President miss me?"

O'Neill's face darkened at the memory of the suspiciously convenient accident that had killed the reporter threatening to expose the program; an accident that had forced the postponement of the ceremony. Despite Hammond's assurances, Jack wasn't at all certain the accident _had_ been an 'accident.' His expression remained dark and got Daniel's full attention.

"Jack?"

Carter glanced at O'Neill, then turned to answer Daniel. "Actually, Daniel, something came up. We ended up getting our medals at the SGC from General Hammond."

A fleeting look of sadness crossed her face and O'Neill knew she was thinking of both her father's apparent dismissal of her choice in career path and the revelation that he had cancer. She'd shared that with him on the flight back to Peterson, and he'd coaxed other stories of her father out of her during the late-night journey. Meeting her father had been a surprise; that her father was a general officer...well, that had really caught him off-guard. _Captain_ Carter, daughter of _General_ Carter. He could understand why she wouldn't want to advertise that little tidbit of information. Carter was odd enough—odd in that _way-smarter-than-everyone_ and _too-freaking-hot-to-be-real_ way—without adding _general's daughter_ into the mix. Jack had been so surprised the realize that his Second was the daughter of a two-star that he'd bitten back his immediate reaction of, 'I've got your baseball glove but you can have it back!'. One didn't just blurt things out to General's.

"I hope the ceremony at the SGC was not disappointing to you, Captain Carter."

Teal'c concern chased some of the sadness Carter's face. "Actually, Teal'c, it was nicer to get it from the General, you know?"

Trying to put a smile on her face, Jack said dryly, "On the up side, I got to meet Carter's dad." He waited and was rewarded with a warm smile from Carter. Almost as warm as the one he'd gotten at the reception when, while reacting almost protectively in the face of her father's obvious disdain for their accomplishments, he'd said, 'Oh, we have our moments.' Then, as now, he'd gotten a grateful, eye-sparkling, genuine Sam Carter Special smile. _Those_ were worth waiting for. "It was...illuminating." Jack quirked a small grin at Sam.

"I remember the first time I met _my_ father-in-law...or at least met him after he became my father-in-law. It was a long time before I was invited to call him 'good Father.'" Daniel shuddered slightly, looking over to where Kasuf stood talking with some of the men from the village. The remembered embarrassment of that first morning stained his features even in the darkness. He shook his head and turned to Teal'c. "How about you, Teal'c?"

"It is a tradition among young Jaffa warriors to place the dressed carcass of a new jemac kill at the feet of the parents of one's intended. This is to show that you are assuming the role of 'son,' and should the need arise, you will provide for them as well as for their daughter." Teal'c paused, his attention on the brightly burning fire. "I was not, unfortunately, aware that Drey'auc's mother was once again burdened with child. Once she smelled the..." Thoughtfully considering his next words, Teal'c simply glanced at his teammates before finishing. "That first meeting did not go well. As with you, Daniel Jackson, I had to wait a very long time before being permitted to address her father as family." Repositioning himself on his rock, he turned to Jack. "What of you, O'Neill. Did your meeting not go well?"

Carter, caught with her coffee cups at her lips, inhaled sharply and then began coughing as her body tried to accommodate the hot liquid she'd forced down her windpipe. She waved off the others' attempts to help her, wiping her eyes with one hand while carefully setting aside her cup.

O'Neill sat with his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out—looking for all the world like a fish finding itself rather unexpectedly on out of water. Finally he sputtered, "I...ah...we...that is, the, ah, awards reception...ah...it was only just..."

Across the fire Daniel smothered a grin while Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow. Carter, still coughing occasionally, came to his rescue.

"Um, Sir? I believe Teal'c was referring to the first time you met _Sara's_ father?"

Teal'c nodded, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed. To whom else would I be referring, O'Neill?"

Jack let out a sigh, still trying to gather his thoughts. For the life of him he'd been certain Teal'c was asking about his meeting Carter's father last week. _Carter's_ father. One short discussion of in-laws and his mind had immediately gone _there_. For General I-don't-buy-your-cover-story-Carter to be his father-in-law would make Carter his... _No, Jack, we don't go there, remember?_

Daniel rested his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. He cast a bemused glance at Teal'c before pinning first Carter and then O'Neill with a look. "Yes, Jack, to whom did you _think_ Teal'c was referring? Hmm?"

"Daniel." Carter growled a low warning at the unfazed archaeologist.

O'Neill glared across the fire at Daniel before shrugging and allowing a small smile to slip across his lips. He surreptitiously checked Carter, noting she was just as interested in the story as the others seem to be. Oh well, if it got her to smile again, he'd share. What was a little embarrassment between friends? "Well, you gotta remember, I was barely seventeen at the time..."

The village had quieted down considerably, the noise falling over the camp in time with the gradual dying of the individual fires. Daniel had long since gone off to his tent and Teal'c to his nightly ritual of kel-no-reem. Carter had disappeared and O'Neill assumed that she, too, had gone to their shared tent. For his part Jack was content to sit under the stars and ponder his place in the universe, something he didn't often have a chance to do while off-world. A faint scuffling sound caught his attention and he turned slightly, surprised to see Carter moving into the dying light of the fire's embers.

She carefully zipped up her jacket then handed O'Neill his own. "It's getting chilly, Sir. Thought you might like this."

"Thanks, Carter."

She stood with her hands tucked into her pockets, looking as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted to stay or go. Or whether she was welcome.

Jack patted the rock next to him before slipping his own jacket on. She was right, it was getting chilly. He looked up and could see her breath as she considered what to do. "C'mon, Carter. No need to stand watch tonight, Kasuf's got us covered."

"Yes, Sir. Thanks." Sam settled next to him, her shoulder just brushing his. She wore a pensive look, her eyes darker than usual, somewhat haunted.

"You okay?"

"Yes, Sir. Just thinking about my Dad."

"Dad seems like a strong guy, Sam. He'll get through this."

Carter tipped her head back and studied the strange patterns of the Abydonian stars. Jack watched her for a moment, wondering what was going through her head. They sat together in the stillness of the night before she finally broke the silence. "He wants to get me into NASA. To go into space."

"Ironic."

"Yeah. I mean, yes, Sir, it is."

"What'd you tell him?

"That my work here, _our_ work, is important." Carter blinked back tears as she turned to face him.

Never had Jack wanted to be back on Earth more than he did right now. He wanted them both to be in his back yard, in front of his firepit, leaning against his picnic bench. Somehow if they were there he'd be able to comfort her. But here, on a planet so very far away from all they knew, he couldn't do what he wanted. What she needed.

"Do you think he's disappointed in you?"

"He was. Is. He was pretty upset when he left. Thinks I'm letting him down." Sam sighed and turned her attention back to the twinkling stars above. "Maybe I am, in a way."

"ah hell, Carter. How do you figure that?"

"I've always done what he wanted, you know? But this time...I can't give...this...up." She shrugged helplessly.

"Carter, your Dad... Hell, he knows Hammond, right? Ol' Dad knows Hammond doesn't hand out Air Medals like candy, Sam, neither does the Air Force. He'll come around." He nudged her shoulder gently with his. "Sam, whatever he may have said, he's your _father_. He's proud of you, trust me. I am, and I'm most certainly _not_ your dad."

"No, Sir. You're not. And thank you." Carter cleared her throat before glancing up at him and adding, "And you'd better not let him hear you referring to him as 'old.' Sir."

O'Neill raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly, his voice slightly rough as he asked, "But 'Dad's' okay?" He tried not to think too much about the implications of his question, especially in light of the stories Daniel and Teal'c had told earlier. _Oh who are you kidding, Jack? Those stories are exactly_ why _you're asking! Please, Sam. Let me share your Dad with you now, so that later..._

Carter faced him fully, her eyes intent on his, so much so that Jack was certain she was looking right through him. Slowly she nodded before returning her gaze to the sky. Jack could just see, illuminated by the impossibly slim crescent moon peeking above the horizon, the shine of unshed tears in her eyes. His chest ached at the pain on her face.

 _The hell with it._ Jack reached out and caught Sam's chin, gently guiding her to face him. Brushing her cheek with his thumb, he wiped away the single tear that fell, indulging in that one, sweet, forbidden caress. He watched as her eyes slid closed and she leaned slightly into his hand. They sat like that for a moment, Jack simply cupping her chin, supporting her as Sam gave in to the need for comfort and reassurance. Finally, she reopened her eyes and gave him a small, grateful smile. She shifted slightly closer to him and Jack let his hand fall away. He, in turn, leaned into her, sharing what warmth he could. The last embers from the fire cooled until they had no more light to give, leaving the two shrouded in the dark stillness of the night. The fragment of the rising moon was resting atop the nearby tent when O'Neill asked quietly, "So, Carter...do you think Dad liked me?"

A soft snort of gentle laughter, quickly smothered as she turned her head and buried her face into the sleeve of his jacket, was his only reply, and his reward..


	10. Teamwork and Bug Spray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My apologies for the lengthy delay between stories. Real life and a crazy schedule combined with the incredible lack of shippy material in the episode, _Bane_. Since I am determined to write a _Campfire,/i > story based on each episode this made it a real struggle for me. So...that said, I've found my mojo. Hopefully. Thanks again to the inimitable beta skills (and advice) of JenniferF. I truly appreciate everyone who has been following this series. As always, feedback is welcome, saved, and _always_ answered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Bane_ on a planet of my own making.

_  
**Teamwork and Bug Spray**   
_

Captain Samantha Carter rocked back onto her heels, inching backward out of the tent. She'd rolled out their bags in their usual positions, the Colonel's on the right, hers on the left, tucking their gear bags along the sides of the tent out of the way. Sam eased the tent flap closed and tied the flap to keep out any small critters and insects, ties being quieter to open in the event they needed to move silently. She flinched as another of the ever-present flying insects on this planet buzzed past her ear. The sound reminded her of Teal's recent ordeal and she wondered how he was faring with the annoying wildlife. At the thought, she glanced over toward the tent shared by Teal'c and Daniel. The large Jaffa had volunteered to set up the other tent—an unusual occurrence—Teal'c usually preferred to remain in the open as much as possible.

Sam rose and absently brushed the bits of grass and dirt from her knees as she joined her team around the blazing campfire. The Colonel had outdone himself this time, the flames were reaching nearly as high as her waist.

"All set, Carter?"

She smiled and accepted the steaming cup he was offering as she joined him on the rocks near the fire. "Yes, Sir. We're good"

O'Neill nodded and returned his attention to the water he was carefully pouring into their MRE packs.

Sam glanced across at Daniel, silently asking about Teal'c. Daniel's response was a slight shake of his head and a look back at the tent he shared with the large man. Sam shrugged and returned her attention to the mug in her hands. She wrapped her hands around the warm metal, willing the heat to seep into her body.

The damp evening air settled heavily around their campsite, chilling her to the bone, and she was grateful to the Colonel for making her...coffee? Sam took a small sip and looked over at O'Neill in surprise. He met her gaze and said nothing, merely awaiting her response. Carter thought about it as she drank again. This late at night a cup of coffee would keep her up for hours, and the Colonel knew that. Which meant... _oh._ Sam nodded slightly and she watched as the small crinkles appeared at the edges of O'Neill's eyes, matching the very slight quirk of his lips, as he saw that she understood. She took a larger sip of her coffee as Teal'c emerged from the tent and joined them around the fire.

"Sir?"

"Carter?"

"Would you mind if we rearranged the watch, just for tonight?" Out of the corner of her eye Sam saw Teal'c stiffen and raise his head slightly.

Seemingly oblivious to Teal'c reaction, O'Neill continued to stir the water into their dinner, taking more care than was warranted as he made sure all of it was rehydrated. Finally he looked up, keeping his attention firmly on his Second. "Mind if I ask why?"

Sam shrugged, keeping her voice casual, knowing they were playing this out for Teal'c's benefit. She had to be very careful with what she said and how she said it, or Teal'c would catch on. She knew the Jaffa's pride wouldn't allow for any concessions by his team, but she also knew that standing the midwatch was the creepiest time of night to be out. And, with the prevalence of flying insects they'd encountered thus far on P4M-687 it was probably better if Teal'c took the watch that had the most light.

"Carter?"

"Sorry, Sir." Sam shrugged again. "It's just that I'm still pretty wired from the stuff from earlier today, and–"

"Stuff?"

"Yes, Sir. Dr. Lee and I are running those projection models on the Naquadah reaction to subatomic particle–"

"Aah!"

"Yes, sorry. Anyway, when we left today he was going to run some more models, but I was thinking about it and, well, actually it was something Daniel said that gave me the idea–"

"Wait, something _I_ said?"

Sam turned to Daniel eagerly, her initial reason for getting into this discussion forgotten. She really _had_ been thinking about different ways they could construct their model. "Yes, Daniel, you. You were talking about the Abydos cartouche and the interrelationships between–"

"Carter, your point?"

"Oh. Sorry, Colonel. Anyway, since it's still fresh in my mind I'd like the chance to write some notes, maybe run a few numbers. So...do you mind if we rearrange the watch? We'd only really be rotating it a bit. I'll go first, then you, Sir, then Daniel, then Teal'c." Sam turned to Teal'c. "I'm sorry, Teal'c. I probably should have asked if you minded before going to the Colonel. I know you prefer the midwatch, but..."

Sam held her breath as she waited for Teal'c reaction. He studied her face intently for a long minute before moving his gaze to O'Neill's. She chanced a glance at her CO and quickly ducked her head to hide the small smile that threatened to rise and give away their small plot. O'Neill's face was a study in innocence. His eyes wide and as guileless as possible on his weathered features, he kept his gaze steady on Teal'c's. After a moment Teal'c returned his attention to Sam before nodding his head briefly.

"If O'Neill is agreeable, then I would be willing to rearrange the watch, Captain Carter. I would not have it said that our set patterns offworld interfered with your research."

"Thanks, Teal'c." Sam turned to O'Neill, her face impassive. "Sir?"

O'Neill's eyes sparkled with humor as he shrugged and nodded. "Sure, why not. Can't have it said...well, as Teal'c said. You know. Besides, if we _don't_ rearrange the watch you'll just keep me up in the tent, muttering incomprehensible stuff 'til it's time for your watch."

Sam gave him a small smile, accepting the dinner he'd prepared. "Thanks, Colonel." She dug in, glad they could do this small thing for Teal'c without sacrificing his towering honor. Besides, she really was excited about running the new models. She absently slapped at a small insect as she attacked her meal, her thoughts already turning to her computations. _Maybe if I..._

"O'Neill." Sam glanced up, pulled from her thoughts by Teal'c low voice. The Colonel was half reclining on the rock beside her, picking at his own meal. His long legs were stretched out toward the fire, one barely touching Carter's own leg.

"Teal'c?"

"Since I am to take the last watch..." Teal'c favored Sam with a small nod, "...for _tonight..._ " his emphasis was unmistakable and Sam blushed slightly at her subterfuge. Teal'c continued, "...I shall retire to perform kel-no-reem."

O'Neill nodded and absently waved at Teal'c. "Sure, Teal'c goodnight. Sweet drea... er... whatever it is you get when you kel-no-reem."

Across the fire Daniel flipped his leather-bound journal closed, tucking the small pencil inside the spine as he usually did. "I think I'll turn in early too if I have the 'creepy' watch." He shuddered and scowled slightly at Sam, though she knew he didn't really mean it. "The bugs are beginning to get to...oh." He looked back over his shoulder, checking to see that Teal'c was far enough away. "You planned that?" He glanced from Sam to O'Neill and back again. "The bugs?"

"No, Daniel, we did not plan on the bugs."

"No, Jack. I meant...oh never mind. I get it and I won't say anything. Good idea. 'Night."

"Daniel." O'Neill's somber nod would have done Teal'c proud.

"Good night, Daniel." Sam exchanged smiles with him then settled herself back on the rock as she watched him disappear into his tent. Together she and O'Neill sat quietly watching the fire. Finally, Sam had about decided to get her laptop out, when the Colonel shifted beside her.

"Finished?"

"Sorry?"

O'Neill gestured to her bowl and coffee cup. "Oh, yes, Sir. I am. Though...wait. Not the coffee. I'm going to need that."

"Really?" O'Neill raised an eyebrow and gave her a small smile. "You're, ah...equations...not enough to keep you alert?"

Sam shared a smile with him, enjoying their time alone and his subtle joking. She loved that about...her team...they said so much without saying anything. A cup of coffee from him, a nod from her and together they'd rearranged things to help Teal'c–whether he admitted needing it or not. She sighed and stretched, leaning back on her elbows on their rock, watching him toss the food packets onto the fire and rinse out their bowls with the remaining hot water. She kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb their teammates and certainly not wanting to give away their little conspiracy.

"Oh, I have plenty to think about, Sir. I was just not planning on taking first watch and was up rather late last night. You know...Dr. Lee?"

"Ah. So you said." O'Neill absently wiped out their bowls and stowed them in the bag at his feet. He brushed away a bug that had settled on Carter's knee, a gesture so automatic that neither of them noticed. O'Neill was nearly as comfortable in her space as he was in his own. "Damn, but there _are_ lots of bugs here."

Sam shuddered. "Yes, Sir. There are." She hesitated, thinking. "Sir? How do you think Teal'c is doing? Um, emotionally, I mean."

O'Neill shrugged, his gaze straying to the tent where Teal'c and Daniel were resting for a long moment before turning back to Carter. "Good, I guess. You know how Teal'c is."

"Yes, Sir, I do. That's why I'm asking."

"Point." The Colonel rubbed a hand through his hair, scratching absently at the back of his head. "Hell, Carter, I don't know. I think he's doing well, but drawing this planet, with…" O'Neill waved his hand in the air, indicating the overabundance of flying insects. "Bad first time back out, I think."

"Yeah, I know." Sam paused for a moment. "It was a good idea, rearranging the watch. I should have thought of it, Sir."

"Next time, you will."

They were silent for a while, only the sounds of the campfire and the buzzing of the small, flying indigenous critters intruding on the silence. The crescent of the planet's smaller moon was just rising above the trees when Sam spoke again.

"Sir? You should really turn in." Sam tilted her watch toward the fire to read the time. "I'm going to be waking you in a little over two hours for your turn, you know."

"I'm good, Carter. In fact, why don't you turn in, I'll do first, you can take second."

"Sir? But..." Sam stumbled. "Well, to be honest, now that I've had two cups of coffee, I don't think I _could_ sleep."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"No problem. So, I'll just grab my laptop and..."

"Look, it's probably not a good idea for you to run your equations while on watch. You do tend to get a bit...distracted."

Sam flushed at the implication. She _never_ forgot her duty, no matter how buried she was in her research. "Sir. I assure you–"

O'Neill held up a hand. "No, Carter. Wait. I didn't mean it that way. I meant...you go ahead with your equations and I'll take watch. Okay?"

"Colonel, you don't have to do this, I am perfectly capable of–"

Again O'Neill cut her off. "Captain! I _know_ you're capable. For cryin' out loud, how often do you think you have to tell me? Let's settle this right now, Captain Samantha-call-me-Sam Carter." O'Neill sat forward, leaning a bit into Sam's personal space again, this time with intent. "You, Captain-Doctor, are eminently capable of accomplishing _anything_ to which you set your mind. Yes, you're brilliant. We all know that. But aside from that you are one hell of an officer and even more important–to me at least–is that you... _Sam..._ do not have it in you to shirk a duty, or to skate through a task. It's not who you are, inside. I'm certain of that, it's one of the reasons you're such an integral part of this team, and so important to..." The Colonel paused, taking a deep breath, his sudden silence startling after the fierce intensity of his speech.

Sam sat, transfixed by both his nearness and his words. Nobody, not even her father, had ever expressed such absolute and utter faith in her. Sure, people often talked about her skills and what she could do, but nobody had ever articulated so clearly their belief in _her_. O'Neill's face was inches from hers, his brown eyes dark and intense on her own, his unwavering gaze holding hers and stealing her breath. She could see the flecks of gold that highlighted the tawny warmth of his eyes, painted by the amber glow of the crackling fire. He kept his eyes on hers and she was unable to pull herself away until he spoke again.

"I know you're 'capable,' Captain. I do not doubt that. In point of fact, I have _never_ doubted that, and I don't believe you will ever give me cause to do so." O'Neill sat back slightly releasing her and returning his attention to the fire. "So...are we over that now, Carter?"

Still breathless and slightly stunned, Sam simply nodded, missing the warmth of his closeness as he pulled away.

"Now, Captain. Get your laptop and I'll take the watch."

"Yes, Sir." Sam rose to return to their tent. She slapped off the rather large insects that had settled upon the tent flap and reached inside for her computer case. As an afterthought she reached back in and grabbed a small spray bottle. She returned to the fire to find a steaming cup waiting for her on her half of their rock. Picking it up she sniffed it, smiling as she recognized the scent of the herbal tea she preferred just before bedtime. How her Colonel had known that, she had no idea, but she appreciated the gesture. She took a sip and set the cup aside, opening her laptop while O'Neill dropped another log onto the fire.

"What's this?" O'Neill held up the small bottle she'd brought from the tent.

"Bug spray, Sir." She gave him another small smile. "I've added it to my 'must have' list for our off-world visits.

"Ah. Well then. Maybe we'll leave it out for Teal'c, eh?"

Sam simply nodded, already losing herself in her computer models. She was completely unaware of the dichotomy of images she presented; sitting at a campfire in the middle of the darkened wilderness under the glow of two crescent moons above, her face lit by both the firelight and the pale blue glow of the laptop. She was peripherally aware of her CO settling again on their rock, his arm just brushing hers, his long legs once again stretched out toward the fire. With a soft sigh of contentment, Sam let herself go, let her mind fly unencumbered into the world of possibilities, secure in the fact that O'Neill was there to watch her back. She gave herself up to spending her watch, and his, just this way.


	11. Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, a _Campfire_ about _The Tok'ra_. This was another difficult one to write, in terms of finding a good shippy moment (or two). There are some, but it makes it hard when they're smack in the middle of an episode with...well, no campfires! I found I had a real problem in this episode, Jack 'we don't leave our people behind' O'Neill left _both_ Carters behind!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _The Tok'ra I_ and _II_ on a planet and mission of my own choosing. As always, feedback is valued and always answered. Enjoy.

_  
**Balance**   
_

O'Neill studied Carter from across the fire, taking in her tired features and the stress showing around her eyes. Just the fact that he was able to watch her, to study her face, spoke volumes to him. She'd returned from setting up their tent and, rather than taking her usual seat next to him, she'd instead chosen to sit next to Daniel. In fact, O'Neill realized, his Second had made a point of staying out of his line of sight most of the day. Now that he thought about it, it dawned on him that he hadn't spent more than five minutes alone with Carter since they'd returned home from the Tok'ra base. They'd nearly finished their debrief with Hammond when Carter had been paged to the science labs. He'd missed her after that and only seen her this morning for the hastily prepared briefing they'd had before departing for beautiful M4X-298, their current assignment.

Jack uncrossed his legs and pushed himself to his feet, heading to their tent. The damp chill of this incredibly large moon seemed to seep right into his bones. He ducked inside and grabbed his jacket, hesitating for just a second before grabbing Carter's too. She might be avoiding him but she'd need her jacket before long, whether she knew it or not.

He turned back to the fire, stopping just at the edge of the darkness and simply watching his team interact. Daniel was scribbling in his journal and Teal'c was eating his dinner. Carter...Jack shook his head. She was simply gazing into the campfire, her expression grim and her eyes troubled. She occasionally glanced away and back toward their tent, apparently unable to see him beyond the edge of the firelight. God, he'd been furious when she'd defied him and insisted on staying behind. Furious and, he grimaced as he admitted it to himself, terrified. He flashed back to that moment in Selmak's quarters.

 _Garshaw pleaded with Martouf, her voice shaking. She'd been betrayed twice in the last few days and was now faced with the possibility of losing another of her friends. "I cannot allow you to die in this way. We must leave now!"_

 _Carter looked down at her dad again–he was still so pale and frighteningly still–then up at Garshaw. She carefully avoided Colonel's O'Neill's eyes. "I'll stay."_

 _The Tok'ra leader shook her head. "You are even more vulnerable since you contain the memories of Jolinar! I cannot allow you to stay. We must go now!"_

 _O'Neill, his gaze never wavering from his Second's, fought the urge to simply reach forward, grab Carter's arm, and_ drag _her from the cavern. He deliberately kept his voice low and even, schooling his features to betray none of the turmoil he was feeling. "She's right, Captain. We have to go."_

" _With respect, no, Sir. I am not leaving him here."_

 _Carter's words shocked him to the core. By-the-book Captain Sam Carter had just openly defied his order. The worst part was that he would do the same if he were in her shoes. Boots. Whatever._

 _Martouf glanced between O'Neill and Carter, barely hiding the triumphant flash in his eyes. "Captain Carter and I will both remain. I will assure that we will not be taken by the Goa'uld."_

" _Please, Colonel. I need to be here."_

 _O'Neill held Carter's gaze for a long moment, before finally nodding slightly, holding tightly to his emotions. "Right." Grimly he turned away, shutting Carter out in his anger. "Daniel? Teal'c? Let's go." He tried not to notice Carter's slight wince at his biting tone and his clear disappointment in her._

Daniel snapped his journal closed, startling Jack out of thoughts. Daniel yawned and rose, muttering his goodnights to Sam and Teal'c and walked toward the tent he shared with the Jaffa. Blinded by the light of the fire, he nearly ran into Jack.

"Oh! Sorry, Jack, didn't see you. Night."

"'s okay, Daniel. Good night." Jack patted the archaeologist on the shoulder as he passed, watching as he stumbled slightly. They were all tired, they'd covered more than thirty miles in their trek from the gate and tomorrow looked to be an even longer day, trying to catch up with SG-7.

Jack saw Sam look up at their conversation, then just as quickly look away. He shook his head in frustration and stepped forward, draping her jacket across her shoulders. "Here, Carter. You're gonna need this."

Startled, she met his eyes, her wide blue gaze captured by his own. Jack simply stood there, his eyes steadily on hers, willing her to not look away. She held his gaze until Teal'c rose and gathered his things, preparing to take the first watch of the night.

"Goodnight Captain Carter, O'Neill."

"Goodnight, Teal'c."

"Night Teal'c. See you in a few hours"

"Indeed, O'Neill. A pleasant rest to you."

Jack waited until Teal'c stepped out of the light of the fire before settling himself next to Carter. She glanced at him uncertainly before sliding her arms into the sleeves of her jacket and returning her attention to the fire. Grabbing a stick, Jack poked at the burning logs, coaxing the flames higher to fight the rising dampness of the night. He could feel the tension between them and he didn't like it. It felt again as it had when he'd been waiting for her to come through the gate yesterday.

 _O'Neill forced himself to stop pacing, stopping at the base of the ramp and determinedly gripping the rail. He tried not to be too obvious, but found that he couldn't keep his eyes from constantly straying to the gate. Where the hell was Carter? Damn, he never should have left. What happened to 'we don't leave our people behind' Jack? Flew right out the window when a certain blonde uttered the word 'please.'_

 _Damn it._

 _He grimaced as Garshaw explained that Martouf would destroy the compound to prevent their capture by the Goa'uld. Martouf. Daniel told him what he'd found when he'd tracked Sam down outside. Dirty little desert rat._

 _The gate tech's voice echoed through the room, cutting through the wailing siren that signaled an open wormhole. "Still no SG-1 signal, Sir."_

 _Jack was on the verge of demanding the wormhole be shut down so he could dial out when the tech announced that she was receiving Carter's GDO signal. He barely stopped himself from running up the ramp to help Carter up following her tumble through the gate, satisfying himself with giving her a quick once-over to be sure she was okay._

Carter's soft sigh pulled O'Neill from his thoughts and he studied her for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

"Colonel, I'd...I need to apologize. For yesterday." Carter ducked her head and swallowed, still studiously ignoring his gaze. "Not only did I defy your orders, Sir, but I did so publicly." She took a deep breath, then determinedly faced him. "I...I've been waiting all day for you to say something, but...well, Sir. I understand if you want me reassigned."

Nothing Carter could have said would have shocked Jack more. Reassigned? Why the hell would he...? "Do you want to be reassigned, Captain?"

"No! I mean, no, Sir. I don't. I love being on SG-1 with...ah, I love being on the team, Colonel."

"Then why are we talking about reassignment?" Jack could think of a few reasons, but he doubted his jibed with this brilliant young Captain's. Besides, whatever reasons he _might_ have entertained would never outweigh the good they did as a team.

"Ah, I just assumed, Colonel, that after yesterday..." Carter trailed off, dropping his gaze and returning hers to the fire. She halfheartedly poked at it with her own stick, idly watching the small embers fly up into the night.

Jack zipped his jacked closed and tucked one hand into his pocket, the other fiddling with the tab on his zipper. "Look, Carter. I'll admit that I was pretty...frosted...that you–once again–chose to do things your own way, but I'm the last guy who'd ever slap an officer down for not wanting to leave someone behind." He hesitated, then laid his hand on her arm, stilling her movements. "I really, if it comes down to it, owe _you_ an apology."

Carter quickly turned to him, her mouth dropping open in surprise. "No, Colonel. You don't."

"I do. You defied my order to avoid leaving a man behind, regardless of whether it was your father. I, however, _chose_ to leave you. Leave you both." Jack shook his head, removing his hand and sliding it into his jacket pocket for warmth. He still couldn't believe he'd done it, left not one, but two members of his team, two people who were his responsibility, behind. That one of them was Carter...what the hell had he been thinking? Carter's hand on his arm pulled him from his self flagellation.

Her voice soft, Carter was uncharacteristically tentative as she reached out to him. "Colonel? I...I hadn't even thought...oh God. I can't believe I put you in that situation. I'm _so_ sorry, Sir."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Carter. Who's apologizing to whom, here?"

As he'd intended, Carter chuckled softly, her smile warming his heart in ways he simply refused to acknowledge. She squeezed his arm gently before letting go and tucking her hand into her own pockets. "I guess we both are, Colonel."

"Guess so." Jack blew out a breath and continued. "Tough decisions come with the job, Carter. Sometimes you have to choose. The trick is to make things work in your favor, up the odds. It's all a balancing act."

They sat together in silence, listening to the sounds of the night around them. Finally Carter shivered, moving slightly closer to O'Neill, so that their shoulders touched. He sat very still, unwilling to move and lose this miniscule contact with her. These brief moments of connection were all they had and O'Neill savored each one. He knew this moment wouldn't last, the dampness was becoming more prevalent as night wore on. They'd have to turn in soon, have to resume their duties.

Carter's voice was soft as she asked quietly, "It's difficult, isn't it? Sir."

Somehow he knew she wasn't talking about her disobeying his orders, or his choice to leave her and her father on the Tok'ra base. No, this was about that balancing act that they seemed to be constantly maintaining. Duty versus...desire. Need. Want. All balanced precariously by a shared unshakeable belief in what was right, in what needed to be sacrificed for the greater good. He felt Carter lean slightly into him and he returned the motion, knowing as he did so that he moved them both closer to that shifting line in the sand. Finally he nodded, his answer equally soft, "Yes, Carter, it is. Moreso every day"

She nodded, her attention still on the fire. "For me, too." A long beat passed before she added, softly, "Sir." After another moment Carter pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them for warmth. She rested her cheek on her knees, her face now shrouded in shadows. Her voice, when it reached him, was soft. So soft that Jack almost missed it. "It's worth it, though."

Carter's words filled a long-empty hold in Jack's soul and he felt a smile steal across his face. He kept his eyes firmly on the fire, fearing that if he met her gaze, if they spoke the words aloud while face-to-face, the magic would be broken. All the plates would fall, the balancing act shattered beyond recovery. Finally, very softly, he murmured, "It is."

They sat in silence, each lost in their thoughts and the implications of what had–and had not–been said. Finally Carter yawned and stretched before rising gracefully to her feet. "Goodnight Colonel, and..." Carter paused, waiting until his eyes met hers. "...thank you."

Jack held her gaze searchingly, wanting to be certain everything was all right between them. Needing _her_ to be certain. "Are we okay, Carter?"

"Yes, we are."

And they were.


	12. Let Them Eat Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It's been too long since I've posted a _Campfire_ fic, and I apologize. My birthfather is dying, and it's been a rough couple of weeks. I'm sitting beside him now, watching him sleep. It's been difficult not to jump ahead in this series and write a _Threads_ _Campfire_ , simply because of the circumstances. Thanks to all who are still hanging in on this series, I do promise to try to get stories up more regularly. Another issue is the almost total lack of shippy material in _Spirits_ and the next ep, _Touchstone._ Blood from a stone, I tell ya! Let's try for something a little lighter, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Spirits_.

_  
**Let Them Eat Cake**   
_

PXY-887  
Tunané's Village

Sam Carter closed her eyes, leaned back against the smooth rock behind her and tilted her face toward the darkening sky. Around her swirled the drums and chants of Tunané's people, the almost mesmerizing song bending and twisting to join the smoke that rose from the small campfire around which she and her team were sitting. Most of her team, at least. Stretching her neck, Sam turned to pick out Daniel as he wove his way in and around the other dancers circling the larger fire, accompanied by the drummers and chanters off to one side. She smiled as the eager archaeologist haltingly performed the steps he was learning, to the obvious delight of the children and teens of the village. And to the frankly admiring looks of the younger women. Sam shook her head as Daniel was drawn even more deeper into the circle, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling at the woman in whose hand his own was captured.

"Teal'c."

Sam turned to find Jack looking in the same direction in which she had just been, a look of mild consternation on his face.

"O'Neill."

The Colonel gestured toward Daniel with his chin. "Mind keeping an eye on him? I don't want to wake up in the morning to discover that he's married to one of the women here." He paused for a second. "Or one of the men."

Sam ducked her head to hide her grin, although in the deepening darkness the move was hardly necessary. Teal'c nodded briefly to each of them, his face impassive, then rose and strode silently away. As always, she was slightly surprised by the graceful way in which the large man moved. For someone who carried as much bulk as he did, the Jaffa possessed an economy of movement that Sam admired.

The Colonel moved slightly, his barely stifled groan reaching Sam's ear. "You okay, Sir? How's the arm?"

"It's good. Just stiff."

He'd only been cleared from the infirmary this morning and had been adamant about joining his team as they accepted Tunané's invitation. The opportunity to return to the planet to celebrate the mountain's gift of materials for the coming season meant that all hope of obtaining the raw trinium was not lost. O'Neill hoped to salvage some of the rare mineral, any of it the villagers were willing to part with.

Sam watched the Colonel stretch and flex his arm, then she nodded and rose, brushing the dust from her BDU trousers. "I'll be right back, Sir." She turned and ducked into the small tent they shared. Rummaging through her bag she pulled out two small packets of hot chocolate. She hesitated as her hand brushed against the other contents of her rubberized food sack. Glancing back over her shoulder to where the Colonel sat absently rubbing his arm, she smiled and grabbed the whole bag.

Returning to the fire, she settled into her familiar spot, just to O'Neill's right, her crossed left knee barely bumping his. She felt his attention on her as she pulled out her mug, then reached over to retrieve his as well.

"Carter?"

"I'm making myself some hot chocolate, Sir, before bed. I thought you might like some, too."

"Ah, thanks. Too bad I didn't think to bring any dessert to go with it."

"What was wrong with the stuff Akaia offered you?" Sam hid her grin as she asked, knowing _exactly_ why O'Neill had refused the young woman's dessert offer earlier. Sure enough, the Colonel shifted uncomfortably next to her.

"Ah, well. You know. It kind of reminded me of...cake."

"I thought you liked cake, Sir?"

"I'm a little leery of cake that's only offered to me, you know?"

Unable to stifle her amusement any longer, Sam let a soft giggle slip through. Since their, or rather _his_ , encounter with Kynthia and her 'marriage cake,' they all tended to shy away from food offered to only one of their party. "I know, Colonel. I was just teasing." She carefully pulled the now steaming pot of water off of the fire, pouring its contents into both of their mugs. She handed him his mug and watched as he closed his eyes and took a sip. It wasn't wrong to simply enjoy watching him...was it? After all, she had to make sure he liked it. Right? _Sure._

Looking away, Sam sipped her own hot drink and firmly wrestled her feelings back into the corner where they belonged. Next to her, the Colonel reached out and poked the fire, sending embers spiraling into the night sky, swirling in time to the rhythm of the singers and dancers as the music picked up in intensity. Sam glanced over to the larger fire. "Any idea what they're singing about, Sir?"

"I'm pretty sure Tunané said that it was some kind of fertility dance." O'Neill's voice was deadpan.

"Wh–" Sam, caught in mid-swallow, inhaled quickly and began coughing as the hot chocolate flew into her esophagus. She gasped and quickly set her cup down, leaning forward. Suddenly the Colonel's hand was on her back, thumping it, trying to help her out. Finally recovering, she twisted to face her unrepentant CO. "Sir! I thought you sent Teal'c to–"

"Relax, Captain. I was joking. Payback for the cake comment." He quirked a small smile and raised his eyebrow, his brown eyes twinkling with good humor, his hand still absently patting her back.

He seemed to realize what his hand was doing and abruptly jerked away, giving Sam a final pat on the shoulder. She gave him a weak smile and tried not to want his hand on her back once more. "Good one, Sir." Picking up her drink, she again turned her attention to the fire, watching the ebb and flow of the air over the embers at its base–dark chasing light–her thoughts mirroring that endless circle. _You are_ not _attracted to your CO...you are his Second and Second's do_ not _get crushes on their senior's...you are_ not _attracted to your CO..._

"Carter?"

Sam jumped, startled despite his having spoken very softly. "S-sir?"

"You okay?" O'Neill leaned forward, trying to catch her gaze.

"Yes, Sir." Sam met his eyes and quickly looked away, certain that if she looked directly at her CO for too long he'd know exactly what she was thinking. Tonight, for some reason, she was having a difficult time, it was harder to put her errant thoughts back into the box from which they'd escaped. Desperate for a distraction, she fumbled for the food sack at her feet. Reaching in, she pulled out a flat, foil-wrapped packet and balanced it on her knee. Concentrating on opening it, she used the task to reign her thoughts in. When she finally got it open, she held out one half of its contents to O'Neill. "It's not cake, but...S'more, Colonel?"

O'Neill studied her for a moment, long enough that Carter began to get a little nervous. Maybe she hadn't boxed everything up as tightly as she'd–"

"Sure." He took it from her with a little smile, then stopped just short of taking a bite. "You, ah, didn't _make_ these, did you?"

Sam snorted. "Don't worry, Colonel, these are regular over the counter S'more Pop Tarts." She dipped hers into her drink before adding, "Guaranteed free of magic aging dust. You'll wake up tomorrow just another day older and still safe from the women of the village."

Satisfied, O'Neill took a bit and leaned back, chewing contentedly. "Ah, Carter, that's okay. If I was going to grow old with anyone, it'd be you."

 _What?_

Sam's heart thudded to a stop for an instant before resuming and beating wildly within her chest. There was simply no way on Earth...or PXY 887...that he meant what he'd just said in the way she thought. She slowly turned toward him, knowing instantly that his casual pose was a ruse. He was suddenly as taut and still as was she. His body was singing with tension, the hand holding the half-eaten dessert frozen in front of his face, his mouth hanging open. Sam watched as he, just as slowly as she had, turned his head to face her, his eyes wide with shock.

"I said that out loud?"

Sam slowly nodded, closing her mouth as her heart began to race again. The air around them was charged with tension; the chants of the dancers and singers receded until the only sound she heard was her own breathing. And his. The moment stretched between them for an eternity, her heartbeat accompanied by the throbbing thunder of the villagers' drums.

"Shit."

It was his softly muttered expletive that did it, that broke their impasse. Sam felt a smile slide across her face and let it build into a full-fledged grin. She held his gaze for a long, silent moment, oblivious to the music, laughter and dance continuing nearby, and waited for him to relax again. When he did, when his face softened with the realization that she wasn't in any way offended or put off by his inadvertent comment, Sam pulled her eyes from his.

She turned away and deliberately mirrored his pose, leaning back against the rocks behind them, stretching her long legs before her, alongside his. As she eased back she felt the residual heat of the daytime sun still trapped in the rocks warm her back, just as her Colonel's words had warmed her soul. After a moment Sam broke the remaining portion of her S'more in half and handed a portion to O'Neill. She held onto the fragment even after he'd reached for it, waiting until his eyes met hers.

"I'll keep that in mind." Sam let out a breath and smiled at him, cautiously easing open the lid of that box into which she'd locked her feelings. "Sir."


	13. Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Special thanks to UhSir from the _Sam/Jack ship family discussion thread_ on GateWorld for providing the shippy impetus for this story. I had a tough time with it myself. Special thanks (again) to JennF for speedy and accurate Beta work on this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set on Medrona after the events of _Touchstone_.

_  
**Perception**   
_

Sam Carter paced the perimeter of their campsite, absently noting the comings and goings of the villagers as she watched Colonel O'Neill light their evening fire. Or, more accurately, _attempt_ to light their fire. Despite carefully placing the tinder and moss, then blowing on the tiny flame that had flickered from his lighter, he was unable to coax it into a full-blown, and much-needed, fire. Night was falling rapidly and with the setting of the sun came a surprisingly cold night wind.

The weather on Medrona had gradually returned to normal following the return of the touchstone to the statue in the main hall. Despite their requests, Roham, the village elder with whom they had most of their dealings, had only allowed the four members of SG-1 to return to the planet in order to observe the planet's return to normalcy. "Normal" for Medrona apparently meant days in the mid to high seventies and nights that dipped well into the forties. While that made for good sleeping weather at home, when one was essentially camping out, it made for very chilly nights. On top of that, the Medronan's had forgotten to mention to O'Neill and his team that rain, a very chilly rain, had been scheduled for the afternoon. That meant that all of the kindling and starter Sam had gathered and laid out near the firepit was now soaked.

Teal'c approached Sam to relieve her for his turn at watch. He indicated O'Neill's efforts with a nod of his head and asked, "Would it not be better, Captain Carter, for us to remove to the lodgings offered by the Medronan's?"

"I don't think so, Teal'c. Colonel O'Neill wants us to stay close to the touchstone, just in case Mayborne is successful in 'misplacing' the other Stargate on Earth." She paced alongside Teal'c, not in any hurry to leave.

"How long are we to maintain this vigil?

"Another day or so, I think. General Hammond said we'd be relieved by an anthropological team on the fifth. They'll alert us if anything odd happens after that." Sam glanced over to where O'Neill was struggling with the fire, watching him bend low and try to nurse another tiny flame to life. "Although, if the Colonel can't get a fire going, we may go sooner." Sam broke off as O'Neill muttered another curse and began trying again. "I'm gonna see if I can..." She waved her arm in the direction of the firepit.

"Indeed. Good night to you, Captain Carter. I wish you pleasant nighttime fantasies."

"Ah, thank you, Teal'c. Um, _sweet dreams_ to you, too." Sam gave the Jaffa a smile before turning and heading toward the still unlit logs and her grumbling CO. She knew Daniel had been spending quite a bit of time with Teal'c, teaching him Earth customs, but it still surprised her when the alien reinterpreted Earth expressions in his inimitably Jaffa way. The results were often...interesting. _Sleep fantasies? Oh, I don't think so, Teal'c._ She stopped immediately behind O'Neill, not wanting to startle him, and waited for him to finish his latest attempt.

"Carter!"

O'Neill's sudden shout surprised her and she responded more sharply than normal. "Yes, Sir?"

O'Neill jumped, obviously startled to hear respond from so nearby. He was leaning forward at an awkward angle and would have fallen into the firepit had Sam not reached out and steadied his shoulder. O'Neill instinctively reached out and wrapped one long arm around her leg to prevent himself from falling onto the muddy ground. His sudden move pulled them both off balance and, to keep her from being hurt, he twisted and rolled, cushioning her fall with his body.

"Ooof!"

"Oh!"

"Ow."

Sam wiggled, acutely aware of the Colonel's hand trapped between her legs. She slid downward, her hands searching for purchase on the slippery ground, determinedly trying to ignore the feel of his hand as it slid up her abdomen. "Oh, God, Colonel. I'm _so_ sorry. I thought you knew I was behind you!" In her haste to separate herself from him, Sam scrambled to her knees. She tried to get her feet under her, but quickly lost her footing in the slick mud and lost her balance again, this time falling backward. She flung arms out to brace herself, one hand landing squarely on the freshly cut wood laid out for the fire. A long, thin splinter pierced the skin of her palm and burrowed a bloody trail deep into her hand. Sam yanked her hand back, bringing the dagger of wood with it. "God! Ow!"

O'Neill quickly sat up, heedless now of the mud that covered the two of them. He grabbed Sam's hand from where she had it cradled protectively against her chest. "Carter! Let me see." O'Neill shook his head. "Damn, it's too dark here, and that looks nasty." He groped his shoulder for his radio. Unable to find the mic, he simply reached forward to grab Sam's. "I'm gonna call Daniel and tell him to dial us out."

Sam could feel O'Neill's hands trembling slightly as they held her own. She shook her head, "Sir, it's...I'm okay. Let's just see if we can get a fire lit, then you can pull it out." She felt his trembling ease with her words.

"You sure, Captain?" O'Neill paused, bending low over Sam's hand. "Seems like a pretty long splinter you've got going there."

"I'm good, Colonel." Sam shrugged slightly, careful not to move her hand. "Besides, Daniel can bring over the village healer if we need her." She took a deep breath, easing her injured hand from his grasp. "What did you need me for, Sir?"

"What? Oh. That." The Colonel went to run his hand through his hair, then looked at it, realizing it was covered in mud. He shrugged and wiped his palm on his trousers instead. "I was thinking you might have some...doohickey...we could use the light the fire."

Sam grinned at O'Neill, remembering him speaking of her equipment during their initial briefing to General Hammond. "Doohickey, sir? That's the, ah..."

"Technical term."

"Ah, right." Sam shook her head. "Sorry, Colonel, I don't have any...doohickey's...that can magically start fires."

"Damn."

"But, Sir, I _do_ have some Sterno fuel. That would get something going long enough for the wood to catch, wouldn't it?"

O'Neill turned to her with a grin. "Yes, I believe that would do it." The Colonel reached past Sam for her camp bag. "Is it in here?"

Sam nodded and watched as O'Neill pulled the small fuel can from her pack. Within moments he had the wood in the pit doused with fuel and a rapidly growing fire. After carefully feeding larger sticks and branches into the flames, O'Neill added relatively dry logs into the mix and leaned back, satisfied that the fire they had would last for a while. He then laid his rain poncho over the stone bench at the edge of the pit, pulling the end of it down the front of the bench to cover the ground nearest the fire.

Turning toward Sam, he pulled the first aid kit from his pack along with his flashlight. "C'mere, Captain." O'Neill drew Sam over, pushing her down to sit on the poncho in front of the bench, her hand resting on his leg. "I'll need you to hold the flashlight, if you can."

"Sure, Sir." Sam caught her breath as O'Neill leaned close, his own breath tickling her arm. He peered closely at the jagged piece of wood impaling Sam, his fingers gently cradling her hand in his.

"Damn, Captain. That's in there pretty good."

Sam gritted her teeth as he jarred the stick during his exam. "Just...just pull it out, Sir. It'll be fine."

"Okay, let me get some stuff. While I'm doing that, tell me about what your doohickey's discovered today." He quirked a small grin at her.

Sam rolled her eyes, thankful that with her face turned away from the fire, the Colonel couldn't see her expression. She tilted her head and watched as he pulled gauze and antibiotic cream from the med kit. "Why do you do that, Colonel?"

"Hmm? Do what, Captain?" O'Neill's voice was distracted, his attention on her injury.

"Pretend to not know what it is that I do?"

O'Neill glanced up at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "You think I have to _pretend_ not to understand you, Carter?" He shook his head and returned to his ministrations. "I can't begin to know what it is that you do...or think...most of the time."

"That's not what I meant, I guess–ow!"

"Sorry. Just a bit more."

"It's okay." Sam studied her CO's face as he focused on his task. The dancing light of the fire brought out the planes of his face in almost stark relief, emphasizing the valleys and lines of his experience, his years in the field. "I mean, Sir..." She hissed again and jerked slightly as he hit a particularly sensitive spot and was stunned to see him wince in response to her pain. "Sorry, Colonel, I didn't mean to pull away."

"S'okay, Sam. I'm digging pretty deep here. Move the light over a bit, would you? To...there. That's good." O'Neill glanced up at and realized Carter was holding the light at an awkward angle. "Here, rest your elbow on my knee, that way you can hold the light steadier."

Sam nodded, once again acutely aware of her proximity to her CO. She had one hand in his lap and her other elbow on his knee while he worked, her body wedged almost between his legs. She was near enough that she could feel the heat from his body mingling with hers, hear every breath he took. She could smell that scent that she'd come to recognize as something unique only to him. Sam forced her thoughts in another direction, picking up where she'd left off. "I know you don't know the astrophysics part of my job, Colonel, but I do know you understand more of what I'm saying than you let on." She paused, waiting for a reaction. O'Neill did nothing more than raise an eyebrow as he pulled the last of the wood from her hand. " _Doohickey's_ , Sir? Really?"

"You'd prefer what, doodads? Whatchamacallums?" The Colonel bent low and continued working on removing the smaller splinters from her palm.

Sam was caught off guard by O'Neill's light tone, he wasn't often this loose when it was just them. "I...I don't...why call them that at all?"

"Why not?"

"Why not? Why...pretend?" She blew out a frustrated breath before confessing. "I, ah...well, I read your record. Or as much of it as I could find. I know you hold two BS degrees as well as a Master's in Mechanical Engineering." Sam cocked her head to one side. "Why let people think you're...well..."

"An idiot? Or worse?" Instead of answering, O'Neill carefully slathered antibiotic cream, far more than was probably necessary, over Sam's palm. He slid the viscous fluid slowly over her skin, apparently unaware of the sensations he was stirring in his Second, his long, supple fingers gliding across...almost caressing...her hand. After several moments he laid a large square of gauze over the puncture site and began to swathe her hand with Kling wrap. Still looking at her hand, he finally asked, "Why do you think I do it, Captain?"

Sam studied him for a long moment. "I guess, Sir, because...it makes people underestimate you."

O'Neill simply nodded and continued his bandaging. "And that's a good thing, because...?"

"If they underestimate you, they'll dismiss you, thereby giving you the advantage."

"Very good, Captain." The Colonel lifted her hand from his lap, critically examining his patch-up job. "How's it feel, Carter?"

Sam slowly flexed and stretched her hand, feeling for any sharp pain that might indicate bits of wood the Colonel had missed. "Pretty good, Sir. Thanks." She shifted and continued to shine the flashlight at the bench while the Colonel began to clean up the detritus of his medical handiwork. "Don't you get tired of it, though, Sir?"

"What?"

"Of people underestimating you. Of having people think you're...well, to use your word, Sir, an 'idiot'?"

O'Neill slid off the bench and onto the poncho with Carter, the first aid kit resting in his lap. He reached for a small branch and absently poked the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the pitch black night sky. The low clouds left over from the afternoon rain blocked the stars from view, leaving only the light of their fire to see by. He turned to face Carter, his voice pitched low, his brown eyes black in the stark, flickering light. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Startled, Sam jerked back. "Of course not, Sir!"

"What about Teal'c? Daniel? Do you think _they_ think I'm an idiot? Hammond?"

"No, Sir. None of us do."

"That's right, Captain. Nobody who _matters_ does." O'Neill shrugged. "What anyone else thinks is just...unimportant."

"Oh."

"Do _you_ get tired of it, Sam?"

"Sir?"

"Of being underestimated."

"I used to get angry–" Sam stopped, shocked at what she'd admitted, her mouth hanging open in surprise. How had he known? O'Neill was watching her, his face expressionless, waiting. Finally Sam turned and leaned against the bench, her bandaged hand resting on her crossed legs, the heat of the fire slowly drying the mud on her uniform. "How'd you know, Sir?"

O'Neill gave a soft snort. "Come on, Carter. You're young, you're tall and gorge...ah, beautiful. You're blonde. I'm sure you've had your fair share of people assuming you're...well, not an idiot, but..."

"Yes, Sir. I have. And it's never been an advantage." Sam drifted back to her years at the Academy and after, having to work twice as hard as the men to get half the recognition. Of the innuendo, attitudes, and sexist crap she'd dealt with–from both men and women– as she'd risen through the ranks. O'Neill's soft voice cut through her thoughts.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I...it hasn't happened in a long time, Sir. It helps that you don't...I mean, that most people at the SGC don't feel that way."

"Carter, anyone who underestimates you _is_ an idiot." The Colonel emphatically poked the fire, then added another log to increase the blaze, his movements jerky. "And I'd like to think my opinion on that, at least, counts.

The firm conviction in O'Neill's voice filled Sam's very soul. She felt her skin warm and was grateful for the darkness that hid her blush. She ducked her head before glancing shyly at the Colonel. "It does, Sir. A lot. And...thanks."

O'Neill shrugged again, his shoulder brushing against hers and then settling to rest more firmly against her. "So. About your doohickey's..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: Well. This certainly took on a life of its own. I had no idea when I started, using UhSir's notes, that the story would go this way, in a deeper direction than I'd first intended. UhSir's notes were:
> 
>  _Shippy moment in Touchstone:_
> 
>  _In the briefing room, lights off, Sam is babbling and showing pictures. Cue shippy moment..._
> 
>  _"That's why we'd like to go back, sir. Carter wants to get a closer look with some of her specialized doohickeys."_
> 
>  _"Doohickeys?"_
> 
>  _"I believe that's a technical term, sir."_
> 
>  _(Smiling, turns the overhead lights back on with a remote)_
> 
>  _A little more chit-chat then Sam and Jack give each other shippy looks._


	14. To Protect and to Serve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Once again I am apologizing for a delay in posting these stories. Thank you to the many of you who wrote and sent notes regarding my father's passing. I appreciate each one of you, thank you. As always, all feedback and critiques are welcome, saved, and answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set on a planet of my own choosing, following _The Fifth Race_.

_  
**To Protect and to Serve**   
_

Captain Samantha Carter came awake slowly. She kept still, trying to catalog the sound that had awakened her without giving away the fact that she was awake. The Colonel had taught her that. She kept her breathing measured and even while listening to the muffled night sounds of their camp. Daniel's steady snores continued, undisturbed by whatever minute change had awakened her. A slight rustle of brush to her left caught her attention and she focused on that. Another rustle, followed by a softly placed footstep had her faking a restless mumbling in her sleep and turning over, flinging an arm across her face. Under the cover of that arm she eased her eyes open and quickly found the foot in question. _Teal'c_. Sam eased up, propping herself up on her elbows as she glanced at her silent teammate.

Teal'c caught her eye, then nodded once, acknowledging her glance. He flicked his gaze from hers to the curled form of their CO, then back at Sam. At the same time, O'Neill groaned again in his sleep. He tossed his head back, then curled back into a ball, his foot grazing the edge of the dying fire.

Sam quickly followed his gaze, then nodded to Teal'c. _Got it._

Satisfied that Sam would take care of O'Neill, Teal'c favored her with another of his enigmatic nods before disappearing silently into the night.

Sam glanced across the fire at Daniel, making sure he was still deeply asleep. She knew her Colonel wouldn't want anyone, Daniel included, to see him not at his best. She was worried. He'd been complaining of headaches since his experience with the download of Ancient knowledge into his brain. Headaches that seemed to get worse at night. Sam wondered if perhaps the little green men O'Neill had encountered had, in fact, gotten everything out as they said they had.

Inching upward slowly, Sam eased herself up and out of her bag. She slipped on her boots, leaving the laces undone, and pulled an extra sweater out of her bag. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that it was just past midnight, well into the time Teal'c should have awakened O'Neill for his turn at watch. Sam glanced around again, knowing that the Jaffa had taken it upon himself to stand a double. Again. She squinted down at her CO in the near perfect darkness, knowing he wouldn't be pleased with Teal'c's decision, but also knowing it was a good idea.

Sam shivered slightly and rose, picking her way gingerly in the dark to the woodpile they'd set at the edge of camp. Gathering a few more logs for the fire, she quietly made her way back and gently set another log on the fire, setting the rest aside for later. She didn't really want the extra light, but she certainly needed that warmth. They'd decided to camp out last night rather than pitching tents. It was something they all preferred if given the choice. Sleep under the stars rather than separate and sleep in the small tents. What had seemed a good idea at dusk, however, wasn't proving to be so as the night was colder than they'd anticipated.

Beside her O'Neill groaned again, and Sam's heart clenched at the pain in his voice. She pulled her sleeping back closer to his, debating her next move. He'd set his gear up as he usually did, his pack and vest serving as a pillow and resting near hers, allowing them to sleep head-to-head, their feet extending on opposite sides of the fire. Daniel slept, as he usually did, completely zipped into his mummy bag, only a small tuft of hair showing from the small opening. His journal lay nearby, far enough from the flames to not be dangerous, but close enough that Sam knew he'd probably fallen asleep reading it. Again.

When O'Neill shivered again, Sam reached back into her bag and pulled out her spare Thinsulate blanket. The lightweight microfiber material allowed her to carry a spare, something she didn't advertise to her team. You just never knew when an extra blanket would come in handy. She carefully shook it out, then leaned over her CO and gently covered him. O'Neill didn't respond right away, only twitching his fingers slightly as the material brushed across his hands. Hoping that had done the trick, Sam turned away. Quickly easing off her boots, she slid back into her bag. Before she could get settled, however, another pained groan...almost a whimper this time...came from beneath the blanket she'd just laid over the Colonel.

 _Damn._

Sam glanced again at Daniel, then beyond the small fire to find Teal'c. Assured that neither teammate would see her action, she slipped her hand free of her bag and slowly reached across to O'Neill. This wasn't quite the technique her Mom had used, but Sam figured it was safer. Frustrated that, despite their proximity, she was unable to reach him, Sam shimmied her bag and pack closer still. Bumping her vest against his, Sam tried again to reach out to her CO. This time her fingers found the top of his head. Holding her breath, Sam lay on her stomach, one hand under her chin as she slowly traced the fingers of her other hand down across O'Neill's forehead. She held her breath as once again O'Neill let out a low, pained moan. She felt the skin beneath her fingertips tense and flex, felt the slight sheen of moisture bead as he reacted to whatever he was feeling. Sam inched forward again, sliding her own vest and pack out of the way and moving to share O'Neill's impromptu pillow, albeit from the other direction.

"Shh, Colonel," she whispered into the darkness, her voice low and soothing. "It's okay, Sir."

The Colonel didn't respond, his breathing becoming sharp and staccato, more sweat forming on his brow.

More concerned now, Sam propped her self up and slid both hands to O'Neill's head, sliding her fingers through his hair, her thumbs gently caressing his forehead, her fingers sliding down to cup the sides of his face. "Easy, Sir. I've got you. Easy...shh...easy..."

Sam continued to murmur reassurances, her heart racing as O'Neill continued to mumble in his sleep. She was considering waking him when she felt the change in his breathing, then felt his warm hand cover one of hers.

"Carter?" O'Neill rumbled, his voice thick with sleep and confusion.

"Yes, Sir, it's me." Sam tried to pull her hands away, only to have O'Neill keep a firm hold on the one he'd already captured. Thankful for the darkness that hid her rising blush, Sam whispered quietly, "You were, ah...you seemed to be in pain, Sir."

"Oh." O'Neill's hand suddenly jerked and he released Sam's hand. "Sorry...did I wake you?"

"It's okay, Colonel. It's just..." Sam slid back down into her bag, but instead of retrieving her own pack she rested her head on the opposite side of O'Neill's. "Are you okay, Colonel? I mean, did the, ah, little green men get everything out?"

She could hear the Colonel shifting in his bag, he gave a soft grunt as he turned over. "They're grey, Carter. And yes, I think they–ah...hey. I don't remember this blanket...?"

"Oh. That's mine, Sir. You were curled up and looked cold, Sir, so I gave you my spare."

"Ah."

More shuffling came from O'Neill's position and Sam looked up to find his brown eyes remarkably close to her face.

"Lose your pillow, too, Carter?" O'Neill's voice, barely above a whisper, was pitched low to avoid waking Daniel.

"No, Sir." Sam glanced away. "I, um...Well, Sir. My brother, Mark, gets really bad migraines. And it always helped him when my mom would, um...well, she'd sort of rub his head, and face. Gently."

O'Neill didn't say a word. He simply kept his eyes on Carter's, the dying light of the fire hiding his expression. Finally Sam shrugged. _What the hell._ "Anyway, after Mom...well, after she died, he'd come to me when they got really bad and I'd do it. He'd sit with his head in my lap and I'd just rub his head. Well, not really _rub_ , but...anyway..." Sam trailed off, still avoiding O'Neill's gaze, uncomfortably aware that she'd probably way overstepped the bounds this time.

She couldn't help it, she'd just felt such... _pain_...with each groan that her Colonel had made, until she finally couldn't stand it. She'd had to reach out, to try to take some of that pain away. After a moment she stole a glance at her CO, expecting to see some censure in his face. She peered into the darkness, aware that he was still so very close. Finally, the silence was too much for her. She began to stammer out an apology. "I...I'm sorry, Colonel, if I've made you...if I've–"

Two warm fingers pressed gently across her lips, silencing her as effectively as any hand across her mouth would have. Sam was stunned for a moment by the feel of those fingers against her lips. So stunned that she missed the first words out of O'Neill's mouth.

"...okay. I...ah...appreciate you helping out."

The fingers fell away, leaving Sam's lips tingling with the loss. She shook her head, trying to clear the haze of fog that seemed to have enveloped her brain, chasing away all coherent thought. She felt O'Neill pull away, then felt the pack jostle as he settled his head on the other side. Figuring he'd want his own pack to himself, Sam took a breath and reached out, patting the ground beside her in an attempt to locate her own bag.

"Sorry, Sir. You can have your–"

"Sam."

Carter froze. "Sir?"

O'Neill reached out, his fingers fumbling in the dark. He found her head and gently guided her back to her side of his pack. "Relax. You can find your own pack in the morning." O'Neill sighed again. "And, I really did mean it before...thanks. It did help."

"You're welcome, Colonel. Anytime."

"Ah...well, it's probably not a good idea if I plop my head in your lap anytime I get a migraine."

Sam chuckled quietly, firmly pushing aside the image his words invoked. "Yes, Sir." Sam gingerly set her head back down, tucking her fingers up under her chin. She heard O'Neill's sigh as he settled in on the other side of the bag, accompanied by the rustle of the sleeping bag as he burrowed deeper inside. "Good night, Sir," she whispered softly.

"'Night, Sam."

They lay there peacefully as the stars slid lazily across the sky, chased by the planet's tiny moon. Eventually Sam heard the Colonel's breathing even out as her own did the same, each of them slowly drifting off to sleep. Beside them, the log that Sam recently added to the fire slowly burned to embers, black shadows chased orange and red across the coals, pushed by the eddying breeze. The silence of the little campsite was broken again by a soft whimper from O'Neill as his headache returned, even as he slipped deeper into sleep. This time, however, Sam's response was instinctive, her movements not waking either of them.

Hours after the small burnished copper moon slid slowly into the hills, Teal'c quietly returned to the firepit. It was time to awaken Captain Carter for her turn at watch. As he made his way toward her, he paused, taking in the sight before him. Carter's hair, its golden hues bleached white in the dim light of the barely warm coals of the firepit, was just visible above the edge of her sleeping bag. One arm snaked out of her bag and...Teal'c followed it's path, his eyebrow slowly rising in surprise. Captain Carter was now sharing a pack-turned-pillow with O'Neill, and Carter's fingers were entangled in the short, greying strands of O'Neill's hair. One of O'Neill's hands was resting on Carter's outstretched forearm, his fingers curled gently over the sweater she wore, holding her arm in place. Both Air Force officers were sound asleep.

Teal'c bent closer, studying O'Neill's face. For the first time since O'Neill's experience with those known as the Asgard, the features of the man for whom he'd betrayed his God was relaxed, almost at peace. Carter's face, too, was more relaxed than Teal'c could ever remember seeing it. Her breathing was slow and even, her features smooth and tranquil, her fingers occasionally twitching in O'Neill's hair as she dreamed.

Teal'c slowly straightened, his eyes still upon his sleeping companions. His normally stoic expression softened as he took in the proximity of the two officers, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He would keep his counsel about this development, he decided. Both O'Neill and Carter where honorable warriors who deserved to find comfort where they could. If they should find comfort in each other, then so be it. He, Teal'c, would do all in his considerable power to protect what they had as he would protect the two themselves. Offering the two a brief and unseen bow, Teal'c turned and stepped back into the curtain of the night as silently as he had come. This was not the first night he alone had stood guard over those whom he had sworn to protect, and it would not be the last. Now, however, he felt he had more to protect.


	15. Fair Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We were watching _The Fifth Race_ again tonight and I realized that I missed many a shippy possibility in the piece I just posted. Therefore, I believe this story deserves a second _Campfire_. As always, feedback is answered, saved, and pulled out to savor on rainy days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set on a planet of my own choosing, following _The Fifth Race_. This is the first time I've ever had to say this, but you probably want to read the Campfire just prior to this one, _To Protect and to Serve_. You don't _have_ to, but this one will make a bit more sense if you do. Enjoy.

_  
**Fair Trade**   
_

Sam winced as she dutifully applied the cool Silvadene cream to her skin, gently spreading it over the backs of her hands. She looked up as Daniel walked by, giving the archaeologist a brief smile that he absently returned as he seated himself by the blazing campfire that Teal'c had built earlier. For her part, Sam had chosen to sit further back from the fire than was her usual wont. She'd done the same last night, at least in the early part of the evening. The fire was just too hot on her still sensitive skin.

Janet Fraiser had prescribed the Silvadene to help heal her severe sunburn, and while Sam had been diligent in putting the cream on in the morning, she found that by midday she'd effectively sweated–or rubbed–off the healing cream. Thankfully, the Colonel had decided that they'd stay in the same camp tonight that they'd used last night, which meant –for Sam at least–less gear to haul; therefore, less irritation of her burns and less chance for the cream to rub off. As a result, she was feeling much better than she had yesterday at this time. Squeezing the tube again, she applied another coat to her hands and forearms.

"Teal'c."

The Colonel's voice pulled Sam out of her thoughts and she glanced up to where he was rummaging through his bag.

"Yes, O'Neill"

"I _will_ be taking my watch tonight. Got it?"

"Indeed, O'Neill."

Sam smothered a grin as the Colonel returned the Jaffa's solemn nod. As she'd expected, her CO had been...irritated...this morning when he'd awakened and discovered that Teal'c had not only covered his watch, but Carter's too. Sam had worried this morning that O'Neill would think she'd asked Teal'c to stand the triple. However, Daniel had whispered to her during lunch that he'd overheard Teal'c explaining to the Colonel that he'd simply felt no need for rest and saw no reason to needlessly disturb the rest of his teammates. Daniel had flashed Sam a grin, chuckling as he tried to describe the expression on the Colonel's face. Who could argue with Teal'c logic? Looking over to Daniel, she caught the humor in his blue eyes and flashed him a quick grin in return.

"Carter?"

Startled, Sam jumped guiltily toward her CO. "Sir?"

"You planning on joining us?"

O'Neill was gesturing to her empty sleeping bag, laid out once again adjacent to his own, their gear bags resting against each other at the head of their bedroll's. He was seated on his own, with two MRE packets propped against his folded legs. Across the roaring fire Daniel was preparing his and Teal'c's meals, his attention completely on his task, his glasses slipping down his nose. Sam could still feel the heat of the fire uncomfortably warm on her tender skin. She shook her head and held out her hands to emphasize her point.

"Um, not right now, Colonel. The fire's a bit too hot for me."

"Gotcha. Okay, one spaghetti dinner, coming up. Stay put, I'll bring it over there."

"Thank you, Sir."

Sam squeezed more cream from the tube and began to gingerly rub it on her face as she watched the last of the sun's rays fade into the quickly darkening indigo sky. Spreading the cooling cream across her cheeks, she rocked her head back and forth, trying to ease the kink in her neck. She'd had it when she'd awakened this morning, it was almost as though she'd slept with her head in a funny position. Sam glanced again at her sleeping bag, noting how closely the Colonel had placed their gearbags-turned-pillows. Just then O'Neill turned, the light of the campfire highlighting the growing silver in her hair, and Sam's breath caught. She had a sudden, visceral flash of that silver hair beneath her fingers, the short, silken strands brushing against her palm—a stronger memory than she could attribute to the few minutes she'd spent late last night easing his headache. Sam dropped her hands to her lap, cream forgotten, and her gaze far away as she chased the elusive memory.

"Carter." O'Neill stepped over to his Second, two meals balanced carefully in one hand, the other holding two bottles of freshly purified water. Getting no response from her, he awkwardly folded himself down beside her, bumping her shoulder with his own in the process. "Earth...er...not-Earth to Caaaaarter," he called softly in a sing-song voice. Beside him Sam jumped, then reared back slightly in surprise at his proximity.

"Colonel! Sorry, Sir. I was...ah..."

"Couple of zillion light-years away?"

Sam nodded sheepishly. "Something like that." She relieved her CO of one of the two dinners and a water, giving him a smile. "Thanks, Sir."

"My pleasure." O'Neill continued to stare at Carter, long enough that she finally dropped her gaze from his, glancing around uncomfortably.

"What?"

O'Neill looked away, glancing first to where Daniel sat in the now almost complete darkness, writing furiously in the journal he held tilted toward the firelight, then out into the shadows that hid Teal'c. He turned back to Carter, again studying her intently.

Sam was beginning to get nervous, her meal forgotten. Maybe her CO was more upset about her...helping out...with his headache last night than he'd let on. She met his disconcertingly direct gaze again, figuring it was better to just get it out in the open. "Sir, is...ah..." Her voice trailed off and she felt her eyes widen as O'Neill slowly lifted a hand to her face.

"Sir...?"

"You've got...just...there..."

Sam's eyes slipped closed as she felt the Colonel's fingers slowly slide across her cheek, his touch as light as a feather across her skin. She felt her breath catch again and she slowly opened her eyes, capturing his intense brown gaze for a flash of a second before his eyes flicked to follow the path of his fingers on her face. Sam swallowed as O'Neill's long fingers slid into the hair at her temple, steadying his hand as his thumb eased its way across her cheek. Then, just as slowly as he'd reached out, the Colonel eased his hand back and Sam saw him rubbing the tips of his fingers against his thumb. She numbly followed his hand as it moved away, her eyes finally flicking up to his.

"Cream."

"Huh...ah...what, Sir?"

O'Neill held up his hand, turning it so that Sam could see the remnants of the Silvadene on his fingers.

"Oh."

O'Neill gave her a small smile before turning again to his meal. Sam watched him for a moment, trying to calm the racing of her heart and going over the last few moments in her mind. The fiercely intense look on his face just now reminded her of when she'd stepped through the gate earlier in the week clutching in her hands the plans O'Neill had drawn for the repair of the DHD. She'd looked past the smiling Hammond to see the Colonel standing there, his gaze on hers, looking as if he were trying desperately to remember something. Or trying not to forget.

"Don't like spaghetti?" O'Neill caught her eye and gestured toward her cooling dinner. "These things don't reheat well, you know."

"Yes, Sir." Sam dug into her meal, determinedly killing the butterflies still wreaking havoc to her stomach. _Get a grip, Carter. The man's just keeping you from looking like an idiot with splotches of cream on your face._ They ate silently, the quiet of the camp broken only when Teal'c stopped by to collect his dinner from Daniel and then return to his vigilant watch of their perimeter. She watched as O'Neill scraped the last of his food from his bag, looking as if he was still hungry. She tilted her own bag toward him, offering the last few bites remaining of her meal.

O'Neill shook his head. "No, thanks. You finish, or you don't get dessert." O'Neill nodded in response to Daniel's softly called goodnight, despite the fact that he and Carter were far enough from the fire that Daniel would miss the gesture. Beyond the edge of the camp came the sound of a twig snapping as Teal'c settled in for his turn at watch.

"Dessert?" Sam looked over at him as she took a sip of her water. It was cooler than she expected and she shivered slightly.

O'Neill's face was suddenly concerned. "Cold, Carter?"

"Um...no, I don't think so, Sir. Well, yes and no. My face and hands are warm but..." Night had settled firmly around the camp, and with it came the welcome cooler air on her skin.

O'Neill stood gracefully, then reached down and pulled Sam to her feet. "C'mon, Carter. Time for dessert." He waved her toward the now somewhat diminished fire and waited for her to unlace her boots and slide into her sleeping bag. Getting into his own, O'Neill fished inside of his camp bag. He pulled out two thick foil packages and handed one to Sam.

"I don't know if I can handle a S'more, Sir. I'm..."

"A bit leery of anything toasted right now?" O'Neill quirked a small smile at her. "I figured. Go ahead, open it."

Sam bit her lip as she examined the sealed package. True enough, the item was much thicker than the treat he usually packed for their dessert. While on Earth she loved the combination of toasted marshmallow and milk chocolate sandwiched between graham crackers, and normally when off-world had grown to enjoy the pale imitation available in the form of Pop Tarts. Right now however, she was—as the Colonel mentioned—a bit gun-shy. Her team's near brush with death in the one hundred-forty plus degree heat just a few days ago had put her off _anything_ toasted for a while. Nevertheless it was clear that he was anticipating her reaction, so Sam gamely began to open her treat. Pulling back the foil, Sam blinked in surprise. The solid brick of brown with darker brown chunks looked like... Sam looked up. "Ice cream?"

O'Neill looked up from his own treat and offered her a small smile. "Astronaut ice cream!" He broke off a piece of his own dessert, a brick of brown, white and pink, and popped it into his mouth, crunching it into smaller pieces.

Sam leaned over to check out what he had. "Neapolitan, Sir?"

"Yup." He crunched on another piece and pulled his out of her range. "Eat your own, Carter, this is mine."

Sam studied her own. "And mine is..."

"Chocolate, chocolate-chip."

Nodding happily, Sam broke off a piece of her dessert and placed it on her tongue. Her eyes widened in surprise as it melted on her tongue. "Hmm, this is pretty good."

"Pretty good?" O'Neill shook his head. "Carter. I just brought you _ice cream._ _Chocolate_ ice cream, in fact. All the way across the galaxy. And all you can say is 'pretty good'?"

Sam raised her eyebrows in surprise at his indignation, then immediately winced. "Ow. Darned sunburn."

O'Neill leaned close, squinting in the darkness. "Damn, Carter, it still looks bad. Did you put cream up there, too?"

"No, Sir. I was sort of in the middle when you brought dinner."

"Ah. Well, that explains the..." He gestured toward the cheek he'd just cleaned of extra cream. Setting his dessert aside, he held out his hand, palm up. "Hand it over."

"Sir?" Sam leaned backward, shielding her dessert from him.

"The tube, Captain. It's dark, there are no mirrors, and you need some goo on your noggin." O'Neill took the tube from her and squirted a liberal amount on his hand. He reached up, one hand brushing aside her bangs, then hesitated, noting her startled look. "This...ah...okay, Carter?"

Sam simply nodded, her dessert forgotten. The butterflies she'd ruthlessly killed earlier had apparently had time to hatch multitudes more before their deaths and were now flying madly around in her stomach in time to the beating of her heart. The Colonel's hand slid further into her hair, holding it back from her forehead. He leaned in, close enough for Sam to once again marvel at his beautiful brown eyes. _And, for God's sake! Those eyelashes..._ She remembered hearing one of Janet's nurses complain that it was such a waste to have those eyelashes on a man. _Nope, not a waste at all. They're just fine where they–_

"Close your eyes." O'Neill's voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, and his words caused her thoughts to scatter.

"Sir?" Sam's own response was just as quiet.

"Goo."

Despite his command, Sam's eyes fluttered open to meet his. "Guh," she coughed and tried again. "Goo? Sir?"

His eyes twinkling, O'Neill held his hand up between them, the Silvadene shining on his fingertips. "Goo, Carter. I don't want it getting in your eyes, and it needs to be on your head. Can't have your brain overheating."

"Oh. Okay. Sure. Goo."

 _Nice, Sam. Advance degrees in mathematics and astrophysics and you can't form a coherent sentence._ Bemused, Sam let her eyes slip closed again, her face tilted trustingly up toward his. She knew he was just being kind and that nothing could–or would–come of it, but for one moment she let go, let herself imagine what it would be like for this man to touch her. _Really_ touch her. Touch her in love and not out of duty. It was foolish and indulgent and...well... _girly_ , but just this once...Sam pushed the dedicated career soldier aside and let herself be the girl.

O'Neill kept up his ministrations, generously applying cream to the warm, reddened skin beneath his fingertips. He glanced down at his hands and realized he'd applied all of the medicine he'd squeezed out of the tube...it was probably time to stop.

Sam's skin tingled, whether from the freshly applied medicine or O'Neill's touch, she wasn't sure. Either way, she noticed immediately when he withdrew; she missed the warmth of him and shivered slightly in response.

"You _are_ cold, Carter." The Colonel gestured toward her sleeping bag. "Hop in, it's time for all good geniuses to be in bed."

Nodding, Sam carefully eased herself into her bag, careful to not wipe off her freshly applied medication. "Good night, Colonel, and...thanks."

"Hmm? For?"

Sam tilted her head, barely able to see his movements in the light of the glowing embers. She felt her makeshift pillow move as he adjusted his own, settling down with a grunt. Stifling a yawn, she answered, "For applying my...goo, as you call it."

"My pleasure. Seems only fair."

"Sir?" Sam asked sleepily, the long day catching up with her.

"You know. Last night you chased away my headache; tonight, I took care of yours."

"Mmhmm. It was my pleasure." Her voice trailed off sleepily as, snuggling deeper into her bag, Sam finally gave in to her body's need for rest.

On the other side of Sam's pillow, O'Neill made one last adjustment of his own, being careful not to disturb his sleeping Second. As he turned onto his side he caught a whiff of the faintly medicinal scent of the Silvadene still clinging to his fingers. "No Sam, the pleasure was mine."


	16. How To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So...for my birthday, I thought I'd share a story with you (although it seems I'm posting _after_ midnight). Some of what happens below happened to me, you decide which part it was. As always, and it bears repeating, reviews are appreciated, saved, and always answered (unless you answer anonymously, as some of you do).

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: So...for my birthday, I thought I'd share a story with you (although it seems I'm posting _after_ midnight). Some of what happens below happened to me, you decide which part it was. As always, and it bears repeating, reviews are appreciated, saved, and always answered (unless you answer anonymously, as some of you do).

Set after _A Matter of Time_. This is an Earthside campfire, for reasons that will become clear.

 _  
**How To Be**   
_

"All right, people. Dismissed. You're all off duty until oh-eight-hundred Wednesday. See you then." After giving his premier team a sharp nod, General Hammond turned and left the briefing room, closing his office door behind him.

Jack O'Neill glanced at his team as they began to gather their notes and paperwork. The debrief had been a long and difficult one; everyone was still mourning the loss of Major Boyd's team, not to mention the additional loss of the abrasive Cromwell. Jack was himself still sorting through his feelings about Cromwell's death. Looking over his team, he felt again the tension between himself and Carter and he knew it was affecting Daniel and Teal'c too. Making a decision, he tapped his papers on the table to even them out. "Hey," he called, stopping them before they could leave. When he had their attention he quirked a small smile and continued, "Team night? My place? Nineteen-hundred?"

Teal'c simply nodded once before leaving, just as Jack expected. The big Jaffa was nothing if not predictable. He watched as Daniel glanced once at Carter before answering.

"Ah, sure, Jack. Can I bring anything?"

"Nope." Jack waited until Daniel left before he deliberately turned to Carter, knowing she couldn't and wouldn't avoid a direct question. "Carter?"

"Yes, Sir." She met his gaze for a brief second, then looked down at her notes. "Do you, ah, want me to bring anything?"

"Guess you didn't hear what I told Daniel? Just bring yourself, Carter."

Her attention once again firmly on her notes, Carter nodded. "Yes, Sir. Nineteen-hundred."

Jack watched as his Second fled the room as fast as decorum allowed. He dropped back into his chair, notes forgotten. Pensively he leaned back, swiveling the leather seat around so that he faced the windows. From here he could see just the top third of the gate. Jack propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand, his thoughts far away.

SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ

Jack stood in the doorway and watched as Daniel's taillights disappeared around the corner. Stepping back, he closed and locked the door, walking through his darkened house toward the patio doors. As he slipped outside, he paused on the deck and watched Carter pull her sweatshirt over her head and settle herself in her usual spot beside the blazing fire. Truthfully, he was surprised that she'd stayed. Happy, but surprised. As tense as things had been between them since Fraiser had released him from the infirmary, he had fully expected that she would leave long before they lit their now-traditional after-dinner fire in his backyard firepit.

Easing his own sweatshirt over the barely healed scabs on his arms, Jack strode across the lawn to join his pensive Second. He stepped around the picnic table and stopped near his usual spot. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "This seat taken?"

Carter glanced up at him, her normally bright blue eyes clouded. She offered him a brief smile and nodded. "Sir? Oh, sure. Have a seat." She returned her gaze to the fire, her hands in her lap restless, fiddling with something Jack couldn't see.

Jack eased down beside her. He tucked his hands into his pockets and stretched his legs out toward the fire. With a deep sigh he leaned back, tipping his head to rest on the bench seat behind him. It was a typically beautiful spring night, the cloudless sky alive with the twinkling lights of the stars. It was still early enough in the season to warrant their sweatshirts, and Jack would truly be sorry to see the weather warm up enough that the fire wouldn't be necessary. Beside him he heard Carter catch her breath once and then sigh. He gently bumped her shoulder. "Look, Carter. I'm glad you stayed tonight. I...I wanted to apologize."

Carter turned to him, her eyes wide. "Sir?"

Jack pulled one hand from his pocket and scrubbed his face. "I came down on you rather hard, Carter. About wanting to...keep the 'gate open. I–" Jack stopped as Carter's eyes slipped closed, but not before he saw the flash of pain in her eyes.

She ducked her head and bit her lip. "No, Colonel. _I'm_ sorry. You were right. I..." She turned away, her hands fidgeting faster with whatever it was she was holding. When she lifted her face toward him again, he was stunned at the look in her eyes. "God, Sir. You were _right_ to...you were right. I lost sight of what was important, and I apologize. To be honest, I've been working up the guts to talk to you for days."

Reacting instinctively, Jack reached out, enveloping both of her hands in his. "Working up the...oh, for cryin–" Jack shook his head, echoing the movement by shaking her hands slightly, pulling her gaze to his. "Carter. Is _that_ why you've been avoiding me? Because you thought I'd chew you out again?

Carter pulled her hands free and frowned. "No. Not because I thought you'd chew me out again, though I deserved it. I was...well, Sir, to be honest...I was embarrassed. Ashamed." She paused, swallowing hard. "I...God, Colonel. There I was thinking it was this 'great' opportunity to watch this amazing phenomenon, and I'd simply forgotten about Major Boyd and his team!" Carter's voice rose, shattering the peaceful stillness of the night around them.

Jack reached again for Carter's hands, firmly catching them. Her fists were clenched around whatever it was she'd been fiddling with, but he simply covered hers with his. "We all sometimes lose sight of the big picture, Sam. You're no different from anyone else." Jack absently caressed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, bending his head to force her to meet his gaze. Even in just the light of the fire he could still see the pain in her eyes.

"But, Sir." She shook her head and looked away, still unable to hold his gaze. "It's like I just...dismissed them. I mean, I've known Sally Westcott for years. We did our graduate work together. And Tom Johnson...and I just... _discarded_ them." Carter turned toward Jack, her eyes wide and anxious. "What kind of an officer does that make me, Sir? What kind of a _person_?"

Jack sucked in a surprised breath. The full force of her blue eyes was turned on him and she was so desperately seeking reassurance. Redemption. For the first time, he allowed himself to acknowledge what those eyes did to him. What they made him feel. She was hurting and all he wanted to do was make it better for her. And he _would_ , his own fear of talking things out be damned. Finally, his voice low and rough, he answered her. "Human, Sam. It makes you _human_. No more, no less."

"No, Sir. With all due respect, I think you're wrong. That doesn't make me human. It makes me a...scientist." She uttered the last word as if it was something dirty before shaking her head and closing her eyes.

Jack immediately felt the loss of that connection. He watched as she took a deep breath and slowly gathered herself. She slipped one of her hands free of his and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, allowing him to see for the first time what she'd been holding in her hands. Dog tags. _His_ dog tags. Sam followed his gaze to the tags and she glanced up at him. Opening her hand, she let the tags fall from her fingers into his waiting palms. "I...I've been meaning to get these back to you since Janet let out you. I was just..."

Jack nodded as he closed his hand around the rubber-edged metal. He remembered handing them to her as he and Cromwell geared up to climb down the ropes. Remembered feeling as if he were entrusting to her something so much more important that a couple of scraps of metal. That somehow, if she were to hold onto them, she'd be holding onto _him._ Gathering up the chain, he liked that the tags still held some of the heat they'd absorbed while being held so tightly in her hands. "I wondered where these had gone to. Thanks." Jack settled the tags around his neck, tucking them into his sweatshirt. He turned back to the fire, giving Sam time to collect herself.

Sam, too, turned away, her shoulder just barely resting against his, and Jack decided he liked it there. He liked the connection with her, despite knowing just how closely they were skirting that nebulous, uncrossable line.

"Sir?" Sam's soft voice eventually broke the silence.

"Carter?"

"I...well, I don't really know how to ask this. How do you...when will..." Sam huffed out an impatient breath. "I don't really know how to be any different."

"Why on Earth would you want to be different, Carter? I mean," Jack waved his hand vaguely. "You're pretty _different_ now, Carter." When she turned he simply raised an eyebrow. "How many theoretical astrophysicist doctor-galaxy hopping-female flagship Second-US Air Force Captain's do _you_ know, Sam?"

Sam shook her head. "No, Sir. I mean, I don't know how to be different than I am."

Jack turned to face her, crossing his legs, and stretching his arm to rest on the seat bench behind them. His fingers played idly with the smooth wood of the seat while he studied her profile. She looked so serious. "Carter. I don't think I understand. How can you be different from who you are?"

Mirroring his actions, Sam turned to face him, tucking her knees up in front of her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knee and for the first time that night, unwaveringly met his gaze. "That's just it, Colonel. I am a scientist. I will _always_ be a scientist. I was a scientist when I joined the Air Force; they simply made me a better one. Along the way they made me a soldier. Or an Airman...whatever." She gave him an intense look. "I don't know how to...turn that off. The scientist."

Quirking his head at her, Jack gave her a puzzled look. "Why would you need to?"

Sam blew out a frustrated breath. "Because...because being a scientist first sometimes makes me _less_ human! Don't you see?" Sam gestured sharply toward the sky. "It was the _scientist_ in me that wanted to keep that wormhole open, Colonel. Forgetting about the Major, about Sally and the others...Sir, that wasn't me being _human_ , it was me being a _scientist_!" Sam reached up to wipe her eyes again, angrily brushing aside the tears that snuck past her guards. "I don't know how to turn that part off, Sir!"

Jack reached out and captured Sam's hands, stilling her gestures and trying to calm her down. "Easy, Sam. Easy. It's okay. I get it." He grasped both of his hands in his right, resting them atop her knee, and he raised his left to gently wipe away another errant tear. When she sniffled, he simply tugged her forward and caught her as she toppled against him, her knees still tucked beneath her chin and now trapped between their two bodies. As she cried he slid his hands around her back and held her, his hands absently patting her, comforting her.

When her crying eased he continued to hold her, his cheek resting against the top of her head, his eyes on the fire. Softly, he began to speak. "Did you know Hank Boyd at all, Sam?" She shook her head against his chest. "Hank Boyd was someone I'd met years ago. He was new to my unit back in Iraq. God, he couldn't have been more than twenty, twenty-one then. He was so green, but damn...he really wanted to know everything there was to know about...well...everything." Jack chuckled softly, his arms tightening their hold around Sam at the memory. "Anyway, one night when we were in camp, I was stretched out behind the mess tent, the darkest spot in camp, just gazing up at the stars. I hear somebody walking past, muttering about times, and schedules and...oh hell, I don't know. I didn't really care, I just knew some idiot was in _my_ spot, messing with my downtime."

Sam's voice was muffled against Jack's sweatshirt, he had to bend to hear her. "What happened, Sir? What was he talking about?"

Jack tipped his chin to rest it atop Sam's head, his eyes far away. "That's what I asked him. 'Sergeant Boyd,' I said. 'Just what the hell are you doing, wandering around at night and muttering about declination angles...' and whatever the hell else it was. Well, young Mr. Boyd stopped, blinking his eyes like he was surprised as hell to find anyone else out in the desert with him. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he flopped down and stretched out next to me, then began telling me the biggest load of waffle I'd ever heard. How if I looked in the sky at just the right place and the right time, I could see satellites going overhead. And, if I was really lucky, I could even see the Space Station." Jack chuckled again, his mind on that night. "Then he proceeded to tell me that that was the reason he'd joined the Air Force. To go into space. That he'd just finished his degree, in math, I think. He took night classes to get it. I remember him looking me square in the eye and telling me that someday he was going into space."

Sam pulled away, not too far, just enough that she could see Jack's face. Still resting just within the circle of his arms, she wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks. "How'd he become an officer?"

Jack slowly pulled himself back to the moment, letting the whisper of those long-ago desert winds fade in his memory. He studied her face for a moment before answering, seeing the sadness in her eyes as she understood the depth of his loss. "I, ah, recommended him for OTS."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Turning, Jack grabbed a stick and began poking the fire, warding off the evening's growing chill. He said, softly, "I told Cromwell that Hank reminded me of you...a little."

"Me, Sir?"

Jack slung his arm along the bench seat and rested his head on his fist, facing Sam again. "Yes, Carter, _you_." He shrugged. "Hank _loved_ space. He loved to travel. He loved learning how it worked, you know? Figuring it out. God, the number of times he asked me to explain how the 'gate worked..." Jack trailed off at the look on Sam's face. She had en eyebrow raised that would have made Teal'c proud. "He just did that to mess with my head, I know, but...it was who he is. Who he was." He tilted his head, making sure he had Carter's full attention. "It's who _you_ are, too, Sam. You can't ever not be who you are." Jack's voice dropped so low that he nearly whispered his last words, "I wouldn't want you to be any other way, Carter."

His breath caught again as she studied him, her wide blue eyes pale in the flickering light of the fire, her gaze intent upon his own, searching. It wasn't often that she lowered her guard enough that she would look so directly at him for so long, and he reveled in it. Celebrated it. Absorbed the moment and stored it away.

Eventually she nodded and sighed, turning her head again to rest her cheek on her knees, her eyes on the fire. Softly she said, "Thank you, Sir."

For his part, Jack continued to watch her, enjoying the rare opportunity to look at her without fear of reprisal or censure. After a long moment he, too, turned to watch the fire. The night moved in ever closer as the fire burned lower within small stone ring. With the darkness came the predictable dampness of night, and Jack finally turned to where Sam sat, her attention still focused on the glowing embers before them. "Ready to head in, Carter?"

Sam glanced at her watch and shook her head. She glanced up at Jack with an almost sheepish smile. "If you don't mind, Sir, I'd like to...well, we're off duty tomorrow so it doesn't really matter how late we up, right?"

Jack just shrugged, puzzled.

Stretching her neck slightly, Sam twisted and glanced over her left shoulder, toward the west. She checked her watch again and said, "If, um, we wait another thirty minutes, Sir, we should be able to see the Space Station as it goes overhead."

Jack said nothing for a long moment. He turned and looked in the direction she indicated, then turned back to Sam. What he saw in her eyes took his breath away. Again. _Oh, O'Neill. You need to nip this now, son. Step away. Step very far away._ His eyes on hers, Jack slowly shook his head. _Not this time...no._ When he spoke, his voice was gruff, and he had to cough to clear his through. Trying again, he said, "No, Carter."

The flash of hurt and disappointment in her eyes struck him like a physical blow. She blushed and turned her face away, then made as if to rise. Hastily, he grabbed her arm. "Wait. What I meant was...no. I don't mind. Not at all." Jack tugged Sam back down to her seat, and together they waited for the man-made star to slip across the dazzling night sky.

SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ• SJ

Afterword: I've had one or two folks email me regarding my consistent capitalization of "Sir." At least when Sam says it. I do that because I feel that, from very early on in the show, Sam uses "Sir" synonmously with "Jack." Therefore, "...sir..." becomes "...Sir..." almost a proper name.

Note to Sally (to whom I can't respond directly 'cause she didn't leave an email), and to a few others who have sent me notes. The "new" version of MRE's have a nifty little chem packet - sort of a mini stove - that allows users to qucikly heat their food. Back in the "day," ie, when I was still eating them, MRE's had to be heated by carefully pouring hot water into a plastic bag (thick enough that I could withstand tornado's-or so I thought) to reconstitute the "meat" inside. Spaghetti with "meatballs" was the best, the "ham" and cheese omelet...well, let's just say, going hungry was often better. Anyway, just thought I'd add that note, and I truly appreciate the commentary I'm getting on my stories, and God bless the engineers who are making the field rations better and easier to heat and eat. ~Pol


	17. By Any Other Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, this certainly went in a direction I hadn't expected. Feedback is, as always, savored, saved, and answered.

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: Well, this certainly went in a direction I hadn't expected. Feedback is, as always, savored, saved, and answered.

Set after _Holiday_ on a planet of my own choosing.

 _  
**By Any Other Name...**   
_

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

Jack O'Neill leaned close, keeping his voice low. "Do you, ah, have a...mirror?"

Sam turned to face him, her eyes wide with surprise. "A mirror, Colonel?"

"Shh." O'Neill waved a hand vaguely to where Teal'c and Daniel sat on their side of the fire, quietly chatting while they ate. "Yeah, Carter. A mirror. Do you?"

Carter shook her head slowly, her eyes still on her CO. "No, Colonel. I...wait, I have our signaling mirror. It's archaic, I know, but still part of mandatory field gear." She began to reach into her bag when O'Neill laid a hand on her arm.

"No, thanks. That won't...they're not very good. Never mind." The Colonel turned back toward the fire, absently running a hand through his short-cropped, greying hair.

Sam studied him for a moment longer, then returned to the last of her dinner. Across the fire, Daniel scraped the last of his spaghetti dinner from his bag and set it aside. He flipped open his journal and began scribbling, occasionally lifting his head to study each of his teammates, then going back to his notes. Finally, Sam could take it no more. While it wasn't unusual for Daniel to scribble in his journal all night, it was certainly unusual for him to stare at his teammates while doing so.

"Daniel?"

"Sam."

"What are you doing?"

"Writing." Daniel's absent reply made it clear that his attention wasn't entirely on Sam's question.

Sam sighed, then picked up a small pebble. She tossed it into the air a few times, considering her options. Just as she lifted her hand to lob it over the fire and get Daniel's attention, O'Neill spoke up, his voice low, meant for her ears only.

"Ten bucks says you can't get it to land in his coffee."

Sam turned to him, her eyes sparkling, meeting the challenge in his gaze. "You're–"

O'Neill held up a finger. "Ah! _Without_ splashing him or the journal."

Sam narrowed her eyes, then looked from the Colonel to Daniel and back again. Mentally calculating the angles, she nodded. "You're on, Sir." She settled herself more comfortably on her sleeping bag, pressing her back firmly into the smooth boulder behind her. Once again she casually raised her arm, pretending to stretch. And once again she dropped her hand into her lap. She turned to O'Neill, her face impassive. "Let's see it."

"Carter?"

"Let's see the color of your money, Colonel."

O'Neill affected a wounded air, quietly slapping a hand to his chest. "Oh, Captain. You _wound_ me." He glanced across the fire at Teal'c, noting that the Jaffa was following their quiet conversation, his feelings hidden behind his usual impassive façade. Finding no support there, Jack turned again to Carter. The only movement in her face was her eyes, sparkling with suppressed laughter. "Fine," he grumbled. Shifting slightly toward her, O'Neill reached into his bag and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a ten dollar bill and laid it on the gear bags set between them. Nodding at his money, he said, "Okay, Captain. Ante up."

Sam carefully laid her selected stone on her pillow and pulled out her own money. She set it atop O'Neill's ten and held both bills in place with her own coffee cup. She glanced again at Daniel, satisfied that he was still absorbed in his notes.

O'Neill gave her a nod and gestured with his chin, _get on with it_.

Sam stretched again, raising her arm above her head and double-checking her angles. Just then the archaeologist looked up and peered intently at her. Sam froze. She glanced sideways at the Colonel and noticed that he too sat frozen in his seat. Sam held her breath, waiting for Daniel to say something...anything. He simply gazed at her for a moment, then grunted and returned to his writing. Sam blew out a breath and turned to her Colonel.

O'Neill's jaw was slack, and he looked from Carter to Teal'c and shrugged. Damned if he knew what went on in Daniel's head most of the time anyway. Jack shifted on his sleeping bag, nudging the makeshift pillow holding the bet. He gestured again with his chin, his brown eyes daring Carter to go ahead.

Once again Sam raised her arm. She eased her hand back and let fly. The tiny pebble tumbled across the blazing campfire toward the unsuspecting Daniel's small, tin cup. Perched precariously on a low flat rock at the edge of the firepit, the cup was well-lit by the fire, providing Carter with a perfect target area. The small projectile arced gracefully down and just dropped into the cup on the side nearest Daniel, landing with a tiny _bloop!_ A small splash popped up and splattered harmlessly on the fire-warmed rock.

Daniel's head jerked up at the sound. "Wh.. _hey_!"

Sam smothered a giggle as Daniel peered suspiciously into his coffee cup, then lifted his gaze to the sky above him.

"Did you guys see that?"

O'Neill's face gave away nothing and he shrugged, turning to Carter. "I didn't see anything, did you, Captain?"

Carter chuckled as she pocketed the money they'd bet. "No, Sir. Not a thing." She poked at the fire with one of the branches O'Neill had left out for that purpose. "Daniel, what are you working on so diligently?"

Daniel, busy pouring his coffee out and fixing himself another cup, answered absently. "Oh, I was just thinking about Machello and his machine. Trying to figure out what he would have done had he gone into you guys. You know...like he did me. And gotten off base."

"I wonder if..."

"What, Sam?" Daniel leaned forward, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Oh, I don't know. Would you have known I was... _me_...by things I said, or did?"

"Sure. There are things we do that are simply inherent to _us_ , aren't there?

O'Neill shuddered and ran both hand through his hair. "Don't remind me."

Teal'c spoke up. "O'Neill, it would not have been a permanent change."

Carter flicked her gaze from Teal'c to O'Neill. "What wouldn't have?"

O'Neill waved a hand at Teal'c. "Oh, nothing much, just my _hair_!" He glared at Teal'c for a second before turning to Carter. "He wanted to shave my head! Can you imagine?"

Unable to control her laughter, Sam simply shook her head. Teal'c, however, was nonplussed. "O'Neill. I do not understand. It would have, as you said, grown again."

"Not the point, T. _Not_ the point." O'Neill jabbed a finger in Carter's direction. "And _you_. Some help you were. What kind of a Second allows her CO to be shaved?"

Helpless with laughter, Sam collapsed on her bedroll. "Sir," she gasped. "It wasn't _you_ that would have had your head shaved, _you_ were in Teal'c's body." She thought for a moment, a small frown wrinkling her forehead. "In fact, if you think about it, you _did_ have your head shaved, since you were in Teal'c's body and that body had no hair on its head."

"Sam's right, Jack." Daniel piped up, his attention finally pulled from his notes. "In reality, Teal'c would have been shaving his _own_ head...just in... _your_...ah...body."

O'Neill crossed his arms and glared at his team. "Let's just be clear on this, for future reference. Just in case we ever exchange consciousnesses, swap bodies, or somehow end up in each other's heads. _No shaving of the head._ "

Sam sat up, still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Um, Sir? Can we amend that to, 'no shaving of _any_ body parts?"

Daniel inhaled sharply, then began coughing. He'd been in mid-swallow when Sam voiced her addendum. Teal'c immediately began pounding on Daniel's back, helping him to breathe again. As he did so, he turned his puzzled brown eyes to Carter. "I do not understand, Captain Carter. What else would remain to be shaved?"

O'Neill snorted while Sam gaped at the Jaffa, her jaw dropping open in surprise. Teal'c comment sent Daniel into another fit of coughing, this one requiring more of Teal'c attention. Sam blushed bright red and turned away from them only to find O'Neill's twinkling brown eyes on hers, a small smile playing at his lips. He merely raised an eyebrow at her when she glared at him.

Thankfully, by the time Daniel caught his breath, Teal'c seemed to have forgotten his question. He nodded to the team and rose, disappearing into the night to begin his watch. Daniel dumped the last of his coffee into the fire, then he too gathered his things and prepared to head toward his tent. O'Neill's voice stopped him, mid stride.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"Just what exactly did you mean when you said you'd never let me date your sister?"

Carter, who had been gathering her own things in preparation for retiring, froze, startled at the unexpected hurt in O'Neill's voice. She looked from Daniel to her CO, trying to guess where he was going with the question. She saw Daniel's eyes flicker to her briefly before they returned to O'Neill. Slowly she continued to pick up the last of her things, including her sleeping bag. She bundled it all up and headed toward the tent, straining to hear Daniel's response.

"Jack, I was making a joke. I needed you to understand it was _me_ inside the old man's body."

"Oh."

As Sam eased herself inside of the tent, she turned and watched as O'Neill picked moodily at the fire. Daniel bent and awkwardly patted the Colonel on the shoulder, then turned and disappeared into the tent he shared with Teal'c. After a few moments O'Neill rose and bent to brush the dust off of his trousers. He shook out his sleeping bag and gathered the last of his gear, joining Carter in their tent. He settled quietly, obviously trying not to disturb her.

He felt... _off_...to her. It would have been silly for Sam to say she could hear his thoughts, but she could normally sense more of _him_ than she could tonight. It bothered her enough that she finally broke the dark silence of the night.

"Sir?" Sam's voice was barely a whisper in the night.

"Yeah, Carter?"

Sam rolled over and propped her head up on her fist. "Are you...are you okay, Colonel?"

A soft grunt and the rustle of canvas against cotton signaled his movements, and Sam squinted in the dark to try to make out his form. Just when she thought he wouldn't answer, he spoke quietly. "Yup, I'm good, Carter."

"Okay. Sorry to bother you, Sir." Sam rolled onto her back and slid her arms back into her sleeping bag. He didn't sound fine to her, but she didn't know how to fix it.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Sir?"

"If, ah, _you_ had a sister..." O'Neill's whisper faded away, then he continued, sounding disgusted. "Never mind, Carter. Not important."

Once again Sam rolled onto her side. It was too dark to see him, but for some reason she always felt better talking to him if she was facing him. "Sir... _if_ I had a sister, I would be..." She took a deep breath, the thought of her CO dating someone in her family making her queasy, and not wanting to look too closely at _why_. Shoving aside her discomfort, she continued, "...I'd be perfectly happy if she dated you."

Neither said anything for a long moment, then O'Neill chuckled softly, his gentle laughter seeming to warm the tent. "Oh, Carter. You should never play poker. You're a terrible liar."

Sam blew out a long breath, trying to settle her stomach. "Yes, Sir. I'll remember that."

"So will I, Carter. So will I." More shuffling sounded from his side of the tent before he continued. "Thanks for trying, though, Carter. It was nice of you."

Sam listened as her CO's breathing slowly evened out, though she didn't think he was asleep yet. She ached inside as she realized that instead of easing his pain she'd added to it. She thought again of the flash of pain she'd felt when the Colonel had asked Daniel, still trapped in Machello's body, what outfit Daniel's sister had worn when he, O'Neill, had taken her out. Even knowing that Daniel had no siblings, and that the entire team had been together on the night the Colonel had mentioned, Sam had felt a momentary flash of... _panic_...at the thought of him being on a date. _Ridiculous, Samantha. Get a grip._ Sam firmly gathered her thoughts and shoved them in the 'deal with it later' drawer in her head. She reached up and bunched her makeshift pillow more firmly under her head, then rolled onto her side, facing away from her CO.

O'Neill spoke softly, his voice barely carrying to her. "And Carter? In answer to your question... _I'd_ have known."

"Sir?" Sam whispered back.

"You asked if we would have known you were... _you_...in someone else's body." O'Neill cleared his throat, then said, "I'm just telling you...I would have known you."

Sam stared into the darkness and let the memory of those three confusing days wash over her.

 _The four of them stood in the infirmary, Janet and General Hammond standing nearby. She could_ see _that it was Teal'c who'd edged over to stand so closely at her side, but he_ felt _like the Colonel. She closed her eyes for a second and would have sworn under oath that the man at her side was Colonel Jack O'Neill. It was only when her eyes were open that she struggled; only then that things felt...out of focus._

Quietly, Sam answerd O'Neill. "Me too, Sir."


	18. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated A/N: Oh my gosh! It wasn't until I got Aveo Amacus' review that I realized I'd made a _huge_ error in this story! (For those who have yet to read this, I mistakenly mixed in some Season 4 stuff...which hasn't yet happened in this series.) So I am rectifying in right now. Thanks, AA, for your question.

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Updated A/N: Oh my gosh! It wasn't until I got Aveo Amacus' review that I realized I'd made a _huge_ error in this story! (For those who have yet to read this, I mistakenly mixed in some Season 4 stuff...which hasn't yet happened in this series.) So I am rectifying in right now. Thanks, AA, for your question.

A/N: Once again this went in a direction somewhat different than I had intended. I wanted a "Jack" story and I got it, but...well, you decide. I save and answer every review (if you review from an account that lets me do so). I apologize to those of you who have been reading these stories so faithfully. Real life, reinjuring my hand, and preparing for my Pop's memorial service have taken their toll. The next Campfire will be posted this weekend and will be a Season One backfill (for _Broca Divide_ – how I could have missed that one, I'll never know).

Set on a planet of my own choosing after the excellently done _Serpent's Song._

 _  
**Safe**   
_

Jack watched as Daniel moodily poked the fire, his expression fierce as he shoved logs around from one side to the other. His latest thrust sent up a shower of sparks, angrily popping and shooting up into the unfamiliar night sky. Next to him Teal'c raised an eyebrow at Daniel's unusual show of temper, then simply gathered the remains of his and Daniel's dinner and, with a nod to Jack, he left the circle of warmth and light. Jack's gaze followed the large Jaffa as he silently made his way back to the tent he would share with the archaeologist. He knew Teal'c would properly stow the used dinner bags to prevent any unwanted visitors in the night. He returned his gaze to Daniel, waiting for the younger man to look up. When he did, his blue eyes still reflecting his anger, Jack simply shook his head and broke the contact, turning his attention to the two mugs he'd set before him. He reached back into his gear bag and pulled out two packets, decaf for him and tea for Carter. Absently adding water to the cups to warm them, Jack's thoughts went back over the past few days.

 _Jack waited for the last of the team to leave the room before rising. God he was mad as hell at Daniel! 'He gambled we would show compassion even to our worst enemy. He was right.' Jack frowned at the stack of papers in his hand, then angrily lifted them up and slammed them back onto the table. He was startled to hear Carter's soft voice next to him._

" _Sir?"_

 _Quickly gathering his files, Jack angrily shoved past his Second, snarling, "I should've shot him." He left quickly, not wanting to hear her thoughts on the matter. She most likely agreed with Daniel–they often agreed on this sort of touchy-feely thing. For his part, Jack had had it. He was headed down to the infirmary to watch that sonofabitch die a lingering death._

Jack sighed as he waited for Sam's tea to finish steeping, wondering what was keeping his Second now. He thought back, realizing that he hadn't seen much of her since that moment in the briefing room. She'd buried herself in her lab until they'd briefed this morning for today's mission and, instead of taking her customary seat next to him; she'd seated herself beside Daniel. Shaking his head, Jack sighed again. He pushed Carter's tin cup closer to the edge of the rock and nearer to the fire, then leaned back against the rock wall behind him. Waiting.

Carter carefully picked her way across the dark campsite, stepping slowly to avoid tripping over the tent stakes hidden in the grass. As she neared the fire she glanced between her CO and Daniel, obviously noting the stony silence that hovered over the camp.

Jack heard her sigh as she stood for a moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between the still stewing Daniel and the stoic Colonel. He looked over at her and raised an eyebrow, wondering just where she was going to sit. His other eyebrow joined the first as she moved over and sat in her customary position by his side. Jack gestured with his chin toward the cup of tea he'd prepared for her and was rewarded with a brief flash of a smile across her lips.

Sam gingerly picked up the metal mug, blowing across the top of the tea to cool it, her eyes still on Daniel. He'd finally stopped poking at the fire and was simply staring at, absently chewing on his lower lip. He looked up once to meet Sam's eyes before sliding his gaze to her left to O'Neill, then away from them both.

Jack felt and heard Sam sigh again, her arm brushing his as she settled more firmly against the rough wall behind them both. When she spoke her voice, though kept low in deference to the night and the unfamiliar surroundings, still held an edge that caught his attention.

"Daniel, for cry–I mean, just...out with it, okay?"

"With what, Sam?"

Sam gestured between them, and then again to O'Neill. "Whatever's been making you walk around today like somebody used your dig journals as a coloring book."

Jack bit back a snort at her comment.

Daniel's head popped up and he glared across the fire at her. "Fine. I just get a little...sick...of the whole 'shoot 'em first' mentality."

"What?" The shock in Sam's voice

"Oh, come on Sam! You know what I mean!" Daniel focused on Jack now. " _You_. You wanted to just...shoot him. That...that poor man. He'd been trapped in his own body for God knows how long and your solution, just like it always is, is to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Daniel, that's not fai–"

Placing a hand on her arm to silence her, Jack set down his coffee cup. "It's okay, Captain. Let him have his say." Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What did you want me to do, Daniel? Take him to dinner?"

"No, Jack, I just wanted you to _talk_ with–"

"Dammit, Daniel!" Jack's voice was sharp with frustration. He felt Carter flinch at his outburst but kept his attention on Daniel. "Not everything can be solved by _talking_ about it!"

"But Jack, you'll never know." Daniel gestured toward Sam. "What if it had been Sam, Jack? Would you have been so eager to shoot then?"

"I'd want him to." Carter's soft voice stopped Jack from responding. She, too, leaned forward, her tea forgotten. "If it mean I was a danger to the team...or to Earth."

Daniel froze, his jaw working soundlessly as he realized what he'd said, apparently he _had_ forgotten. Jolinar. He looked between Jack and Sam, and then dropped his eyes. A second later he flared up again. "But...he would never shoot _you_..."

Carter leaned forward, here eyes intense...fierce. She captured Daniel's gaze and held it, refusing to let him look away. "You have... _no idea_...what it is like. No!" She waved off his protest. "It was your _wife_ that was taken, not _you_. You don't know what it means to have...everything you know, everything you think, everything you...feel...laid bare. Afraid that the _thing_ inside of you will use what you know to hurt those you lo–... your friends."

"But...you were saved..."

"Daniel, enough." Sam's entire body was taught with tension.

"No, Sam, it's _not_ enough. I thought you of all people would be on my side in this." Daniel ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I just...I just want..."

Jack had had enough. He rose with exaggerated care, dusting off his trousers as he went. "I'm going to check on Teal'c." He gave Carter a brief nod and strode off. Behind him he could hear Sam and Daniel continuing their 'discussion.'

"God, Daniel, how _could_ you?"

"How could I what, Sam? I just don't know how you can do it, all the killing...even you. You begged him to save you. Did you want him to do so by shooting you?"

"Yes. God help me, Daniel, _yes_. If that's what it took. And he would have done it. Do you have any idea what that would cost him? To make the conscious decision to kill a member of his own team?" Sam's soft voice faded as Jack moved away from the fire.

He didn't really need to check on Teal'c, he simply needed to get away. As much as he loved Daniel–and he wasn't afraid to admit that he did, in fact, love the idealistic young man–sometimes Daniel's naiveté drove him nuts. He paced the perimeter of their small campsite, absently noting that Carter had done her usual efficient job of aligning the tents adjacent to each other, setting them as much in the shelter of the natural wall as possible. He paused when he spotted Teal'c, apparently deep in kel-no-reem on the edge of the small clearing. Not wanting to disturb the large man's necessary rest, Jack moved quietly away, deeper into the trees. Glancing back, he could just make out the glow of the small fire Teal'c had built, and he watched as Daniel, with a last few quiet words with Sam, rose and stalked off to his tent.

After a few moments, Jack shivered as the cool night air wove through the thin overshirt he was wearing, and he decided it was time to return to the fire. He stepped quietly through the trees, and was pleased to see that, despite his attempts at stealth, Sam looked up at his approach. Her bright blue eyes, darkened in the light of the fire, tracked him as he moved around the fire. Seeing the concern in her eyes, he gave her a slight smile. His smile widened when she handed him a freshly made cup of coffee.

"Decaf?"

"Of course, Sir." Carter watched him while he slowly slid down the wall at her side. When he was settled, she said, "Sir, about what Daniel said..."

"Forget it, Carter." Jack sipped his coffee, hoping she'd take his dismissal to heart.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but...I can't." She shrugged, the movement again causing her arm to brush against his sleeve. "Daniel isn't...he doesn't..." She puffed out a breath. "Look, Sir. I'm not making excuses for him, I'm just..."

"Making excuses."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Like I said, Carter. Forget it." Jack leaned against the wall and stretched his legs toward the fire. They sat silently for a while, Jack slowly drinking his coffee while Sam finished the last of what he guessed was a second cup of tea. Finally, Jack broke the silence. "Carter...I know Daniel's mad. Hell, I expected you to be just as mad."

"Me? Why, Sir?"

"Let's face it, I was a bit...harsh...there a few times last week."

Carter turned to face him, setting her cup aside. She reached to lay a hand on his arm, then hesitated, instead letting it fall on her knee. Jack was sorry she'd stopped herself. "Colonel, I..." She shook her head, obviously frustrated.

He turned to face her, his coffee forgotten, and simply held her gaze. Her eyes softened as he stared, and he knew he should probably look away. Softly, he prompted her. "You what, Captain?" He watched her swallow and glance away, then just as swiftly return her eyes to his.

Carter's voice was a soft as his had been. "Permission to speak freely, Colonel?"

Jack hesitated. He doubted it was safe to grant either of them permission to freely express themselves. He'd felt that doubt growing the past few months, and now he was certain. These little interludes they seemed to end up having, almost always around a small fire, were dangerous. While he might deny possessing any real emotional depth, Jack wasn't stupid. He'd shared more of himself with this young officer during their fireside chats than he could ever remember sharing with Sara. Jack found himself looking forward to the end of the night, both off-world missions and their team-nights on Earth. What had begun as a fluke, or an accident of timing, had turned into something very important for his wellbeing. Let Carter speak freely? No, probably not a good idea.

"Sir?" Carter leaned forward, almost whispering. Her fathomless blue eyes were almost black in the stark light of the fire, and the concern evident on her gentle features.

Despite his better judgment, Jack found himself nodding in acquiescence. "Go ahead, Carter."

Carter swallowed again and looked away. "Colonel, it...God, I _hated_ how upset you were. After the briefing. I hated that you felt you had made the wrong decision."

"Carter, I'm bound to make ba–"

"That's not it, Sir. I hated that...that you felt as if you'd taken the bait. That you felt that Daniel was calling us weak for taking in Apophis."

Carter paused, turning her face toward the fire. Jack watched as the dancing flames painted a moving pattern across her skin, bathing it in a shifting golden glow. He watched as her brow furrowed while she searched for the words she felt she needed to say. When she turned back to him, his breath caught.

"What I mean, Colonel, is that... _I_ wished you had shot him too. I know it's wrong, and that the host..."

Carter shuddered, and Jack instinctively placed his hand on her back, soothingly. He thought back to his brief conversation with Dr. Fraiser in the hallway. He'd been on his way back up to the Control Room when she'd stopped him

" _Colonel." Doctor Fraiser's gentle voice stopped him just as he hit the doorway._

" _Is he dead yet, Doc?" Jack forced himself not to notice how she reared back at his harsh question. When she shook her head, he, in turn, shook her hand off of his arm. "Let me know when it happens." He moved to step around the diminutive doctor, only to be caught more firmly by her surprisingly strong grip on his arm._

" _Colonel. He said something to Sam. Something that..."_

" _Carter's tough, she can take it." This time Jack pried her fingers off. He didn't need another reason to be angry with Apophis, he just wanted him dead._

" _Colonel O'Neill. I am asking that you keep Captain Carter away from him."_

 _Now she had his full attention. "Why?" He snapped at her. "What happened?"_

 _Fraiser told him of the conversation in the infirmary, how Apophis had strained against his restraints to look Carter over, seeming to almost sniff her. How he'd told her that she'd make an 'excellent host for Sokar's new queen.' Something in Jack had snapped at that. He brushed the doctor aside and ran down the hall to the infirmary. In his haste he'd almost run over the person whom he most needed to find._

Still slowly rubbing Carter's back, Jack thought of how he'd found her in the hallway.

 _Carter was pale and shaken, obviously fighting for control, leaning...one hand on the wall, the other covering her eyes. She looked up at his approach, quickly trying to straighten. Without a word he grabbed her by the elbow and steered her into the nearest–thankfully empty–office. Pushing his Second into a chair, Jack filled a small paper cup with water from the dispenser and pressed it into her hands, squatting in front of her, making sure she had something physical to ground her. When she eventually looked up, he studied her intensely, making certain she was all the way there with him. Very softly, he said, "It won't happen, Carter. I promise you."_

 _Her voice still shaking slightly, Carter simply nodded._

 _Jack squeezed the knee he was braced against, for the first time in his career cursing the regulations that prevented him from doing anything else. "I mean it, Captain...I mean it..._ Sam _."_

 _Slowly Carter's breathing evened out and she was once again the steady, solid Captain upon whom he depended for so much. "Yes, Colonel. I know." She took a long sip of water, closing her eyes, obviously gathering herself again. She opened her mouth to speak and jumped as Hammond's voice sounded over the PA system, summoning Jack to the Control Room._

The fire popped and both of them jumped. Jack realized he still had his hand on her shoulder and reluctantly pulled away. "I meant it, Carter. I wouldn't have let it happen to you again."

Carter looked back and gave him a brief smile. "I know, Sir. But...that's not why I wanted it."

Jack tilted his head, studying her. She hadn't wanted him to shoot Apophis for threatening her with becoming Sokar's queen? What other reason could she have?

Seeing his confusion, Carter continued. "I wanted it because...well, because it was something _you_ believed was right, Colonel. And because of what he's done...to all of us. To..." She waved her arm vaguely, "...everyone. Thousands." Carter ducked her head, then looked up at him shyly. "But mostly, Colonel, I wanted it because...you believed it was the right thing to do."

Jack sat there, stunned. How long had it been since anyone had expressed that kind of faith in his decisions? That kind of unswerving belief in...him? He honestly couldn't remember. Kowalsky had often disagreed with his decisions. He'd followed Jack's orders, but Jack knew there were times when his friend had out-and-out disagreed with a course of action Jack had determined was appropriate. Jack absently reached behind him and tossed another log on the fire, his eyes never leaving Carter's face. He could see, in the suddenly increased brightness, the faint blush coloring her features. And while her unwavering belief in him was flattering. Staggering. Mind-blowing. Jack knew that he needed to say something.

"Carter, I...you know that I'm not always going to..." God! It sounded so arrogant to say it this way, but Jack continued. "I'm going to make mistakes."

"Oh, I know _that_. Sir." Carter's eyes sparkled in the light of the fire. "I just meant that...I...oh, never mind, Colonel."

"No, Carter. No never minds." He tapped her on the knee, pulling her gaze back to his. "Let's make these," he gestured to the fire, then to the space between them, "safe zones. Kind of a 'time out,' if you will. You'll be 'Sam,' and I'll be–"

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Sir? You'll be...'Sir,' Sir?

Jack slowly nodded. Yes, it would be _much_ safer is he stayed 'Sir' during these chats. "Fine. I'll be 'Sir.'" He continued their discussion. "There's no 'never mind' in the safe zone, Car– er, Sam."

This time she turned to face him fully, her eyes wide. He wondered what she was thinking; Lord knew he had thoughts enough whizzing through _his_ brain and he knew it couldn't hold a tenth of what hers could. Jack waited, content to let her work her way through the possible ramifications of his proposal. He could tell when she'd come to a decision, the little line in her forehead slowly eased away. "Okay, Sir. Campfire. Safe zone. Got it."

Jack waved his hand, gesturing for her to continue what she'd been saying. "So...and...'never mind'...?"

Carter blew out a breath and pivoted, turning away from him to face the fire. "Fine. What I was trying to say was, I wanted it...you to shoot Apophis...because, like I said, you believed it was right."

"We established that. I believe we also established how I am not, despite all outward appearances, infallible."

"I know that, Sir. It's just that...when it effects you so deeply, it's hard for me to..." Carter's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "...to not want the same thing. Sir."

Pulling her feet in and bending her legs to her chest, Carter wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin atop her knees, her face toward O'Neill, watching his reaction. Waiting. She'd just admitted something to him that could get her transferred off of SG-1. Jack knew it. He knew Carter knew it, and he knew that _she_ knew he knew it. His Second had effectively told him that she had a hard time separating her own emotions from her CO's–a dangerous proposition for any military unit. Deadly.

And Jack found that he didn't care.

He pulled is own leg up, almost mirroring Carter's position. He folded his hands atop his knee and rested his cheek on his hand, his face turned toward hers. "I, ah, know what you mean."

"You do?"

"I do."

Carter's voice was hesitant. "And...you're okay with that, Sir?"

"I am."

"Oh."

Jack watched her think for a few more minutes, he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Finally he forced himself to turn away, not wanting to think about how he would be happy sitting and watching her think for the entire night. He unfolded his legs and rose with a faint groan. Carter tipped her head to watch him, offering a small smile when he groaned again. Jack allowed himself one brief contact as he bent and patted her shoulder. "Carter, it's late. I'm going to bed. Try not to wake me when you crawl in."

"Yes, Sir."

Stepping carefully around her, Jack walked quietly over to the tent they shared, untied the flap and crawled inside. Pulling he flaps closed, he paused and looked over to where Carter still sat, her eyes on the fire and thoughts far away. He knew he'd pushed the boundaries a little tonight. Knew that he was treading a fine line with this fine young officer. He also knew himself well enough to know that he'd never, ever cross that line. She didn't deserve that sort of behavior from him...from anyone.

Resolutely silencing the voice in his head that was screaming for attention, Jack quietly retied tent flaps, closing himself off from the view of his Second. He firmly told the little voice to pipe down. ' _Safe zone_ ,' he thought, then snorted softly. Who the hell was he kidding? Whatever his feelings for Carter–and he wasn't at all ready to admit he had any beyond that of colleague and friend–he knew that simply declaring some arbitrary area "safe" was a ridiculous idea.

' _Safe zone.'_ The little voice was back. _'You idiot.'_ "Shut up." He flashed again to finding her in the hallway, overwhelmed once again by the feelings that had swamped him. As much as he'd wanted to kill Apophis when they'd found him on the planet, Jack had wanted to physically tear the man apart of even _thinking_ of touching Carter. He'd taken her into that office to gain control of his emotions as much as to help her.

Shaking his head and telling the little voice to pipe down one last time, Jack zipped himself into his bag and closed his eyes, unaware that his Second remained by the fire, trying desperately to subdue her own inner voice. And failing.


	19. Treading Lightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well. This was certainly an adventure to write. I am, as I have said, determined to write a Campfire for every episode (yes, I'm going back and patching holes in the Season 1 Campfires, sorry). To that end, some episodes lend themselves to Campfires more than others. This was definitely an "other." I did not, as so many have, address Carter's penchant for talking to her plants. :::shrug::: Couldn't make that work. Thanks to Cagranosalis (Cags) for her excellent beta work and feedback. I answer each and every review that is posted (provided you review with an email addy to which I can respond), and I save every review. Thanks so much to everyone for your continued commentary and encouragement on these stories.

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: Well. This was certainly an adventure to write. I am, as I have said, determined to write a Campfire for every episode (yes, I'm going back and patching holes in the Season 1 Campfires, sorry). To that end, some episodes lend themselves to Campfires more than others. This was definitely an "other." I did not, as so many have, address Carter's penchant for talking to her plants. :::shrug::: Couldn't make that work. Thanks to Cagranosalis (Cags) for her excellent beta work and feedback. I answer each and every review that is posted (provided you review with an email addy to which I can respond), and I save every review. Thanks so much to everyone for your continued commentary and encouragement on these stories.

Set during and after _One False Step_.

 _  
**Treading Lightly**   
_

Sam watched as Daniel disappeared into the small domed building, intent upon finding a way to communicate with the odd little aliens. She held her hands up against her chest, her left clutched tightly in her right, and looked around for a place to sit.

"Over here."

Looking up, she spotted O'Neill resting on the ground, his back against one of the other dwellings, positioned so that he was in the shade but could still keep an eye on the building into which Daniel had disappeared. As she moved to join him, O'Neill nodded toward Teal'c, indicating that he should keep watch. The Jaffa nodded, including Sam in his acknowledgement as he moved off to the edge of the small village.

"How's the hand?" The Colonel was already busily digging into their packs for a first aid kit.

Sam slowly opened her fist and eased off the bandana she'd hastily applied. She winced as the clotting blood pulled with the movement. "Fine, I guess. Hurts a bit. It'll be okay."

"Same hand you stabbed when we went back to Medrona, is it?"

Sam slid down along the wall until she was seated next to her CO. She dutifully held out her hand when he reached for it, leaving it where he set it atop his knee. "Yes, Sir. Same one."

"Gotta stop that."

"Yes, Sir."

Sam watched absently as the Colonel bent over her hand and began to take a careful look. She knew Fraiser would be lining her up for an extra set of shots for this and she fought back a shudder.

"Sorry, Carter. Did that hurt?"

O'Neill lifted his head and Sam's breath caught. The angle of the sun had changed, illuminating their little spot with the fading afternoon daylight. The amber light caught the Colonel's eyes, giving them an almost translucent look. For an instant Sam felt as if she could look directly _into_ her CO...see his innermost thoughts. He blinked, screwing up his face in concerned puzzlement and the moment was gone.

"Carter?"

"Sir?" Sam shook her head. "Sorry. Spaced a bit. Just thinking about Dr. Fraiser's needles."

O'Neill shared a grimace. "Yeah. You've bought yourself an extra round at checkout time, looks like." Glancing back to where Daniel had disappeared, he paused, obviously thinking. Turning back to Sam, he pulled out his small Sterno. "I have a feeling this is going to take a while. Since we have the time, I'm gonna heat some water to clean this properly."

"It's okay, Sir, I'll–"

"Aah!" The Colonel held up a finger, forestalling her protest. "If I have to heat water anyway, we can also heat up food. No reason to have a cold lunch, eh?"

Sam smiled, digging into her own pack. "No, Sir." She handed him her canteen and watched as he began the process of warming up the water. Once warm he moved the pot onto the ground, careful not to let the water get too hot. He was gentle as he carefully cleaned her wound, frowning slightly in concentration as he worked. His focus allowed Sam the rare opportunity to study him without fear of reprisal or censure, and she savored the moment, storing the memory away to take out and later enjoy. The Colonel's deep brown eyes were intent upon his task, his long eyelashes rising and falling as he worked. The subtle lines that surrounded his eyes deepened as his gaze flicked from hand to med kit and back again. Despite the slight pain that came from his efforts, Sam enjoyed the warm feeling of her hand cradled in his. So focused was she on the _him_ that when he spoke she missed the first part of his question.

"...meals for us?"

"Sorry, Sir. Guess my mind wandered.

O'Neill glanced up at her, his eyes questioning.

"You all right?"

Nodding, Sam flashed him an apologetic smile. "Yes, Sir. I was just thinking about...ah, about where the UAV could be."

"Hmm." O'Neill's eyes held her own for a moment, his gaze measuring. After a moment he nodded toward her bag. "Can you reach behind you and pull out some meals? I'm just about done." He finished tying the last wrap around her hand and gave her arm an absent pat as he cleaned up the medical supplies.

Sam fished out two MRE's from her bag and handed them over. The Colonel added more water to the pot and cut the bags open as she dug once more into her bag and produced their utensils.

"Teal'c." O'Neill keyed his mic as the water began to boil in their small pot.

" _O'Neill. Is all well there?"_

"Yes," responded the Colonel, with a slight smile toward Sam at Teal'c's words. "We're all fine here. Looks like Daniel's gonna be a while. Come eat."

" _I shall remain along the ridge, O'Neill. I do not need to eat at this time."_

The Colonel shrugged. "Suit yourself. Come when you're hungry."

Sam awkwardly tried to pour the water into her pouch, finding it hard to manage the heavy plastic MRE bag and the small pan of hot water with the bulky dressing on her left hand. O'Neill looked over at her then gently lifted both objects away, his fingers lightly brushing her skin. Sam tried to ignore how much she liked that tingling feeling.

"Let me."

"Thanks."

After handing Sam back her meal, the two sat quietly, eating and observing the coming's and going's of the odd little natives who, for the most part, ignored the two Earth officers. When she was finished, Sam yawned and leaned back, resting her head against the building behind her and enjoying the rare opportunity to relax while off-world.

"Sorry there are no s'mores."

Easing an eye open, Sam smiled at her CO. "No problem, Colonel. Maybe next time." She watched as O'Neill returned her smile and returned to his own dinner, then let her eyes slip closed again in contentment.

"Sure." O'Neill was quiet for a moment. "I was thinking that it's been a while since we had a team night. What do you think?"

"Tonight, Sir?"

The Colonel gestured vaguely at the village. "Or...whenever. You know. When Daniel gets our UAV back and we're home. Sure. Why not?"

"Sounds good, Colonel."

"Great. It's a date."

Sam snapped her head up and looked at him, her mouth falling open. Next to her O'Neill looked just as shocked. She watched as he slowly turned to her, his brown eyes bright in the fading afternoon light.

"I...well...you know, Carter. Not a _date_ date. Just a...um, dinner."

Sam couldn't help it. He looked so flustered and...endearing...that she simply chuckled. She reached out and patted his arm briefly. "I get it Colonel. I am sure Teal'c and Daniel will enjoy the da– er, _team night_."

"Funny. You know, the penalty for laughing at your CO is that you have to bring dessert."

"Sounds good. I'm sure I can scare up some blue–"

"And not blue Jello, Carter."

Sam grinned again, looking forward to the end of this mission. "Yes, Sir."

Team night, as it turned out, had to wait nearly a week. Sam pulled her vintage Volvo into the driveway, parking behind the Colonel's truck. As she reached into the car to pull out the covered cake container, she smiled, wondering when the guys had all fallen into the habit of leaving the driveway open for her to park. Not that she wasn't grateful, it made it easier for her when she inevitably arrived late for the team nights, as she had tonight. Just as she was locking up her lab, Sergeant Siler had paged her to the control room. She'd waved Daniel and the Colonel on, promising to wrap things up as quickly as possible.

Now, nearly three hours later, she was climbing tiredly O'Neill's front steps, balancing the oversized cake in one hand while she rang his doorbell. The chimes had barely stopped ringing inside when the door swung open, revealing a rather rumpled looking Colonel.

"Carter!"

"Sir, sorry I'm late, I..." Sam trailed off, only now realizing that the house was dark behind her CO and that he looked rather sleepier than she would have expected for a man hosting a team get-together. "Did, um, you fall asleep during the movie, Sir?"

O'Neill waved Sam inside, flipping on lights as he went. As the room lit, Sam looked around and realized that she was the only one there. She stopped, the cake still balanced in one hand, the other resting on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "Um, Sir? Where are Daniel and Teal'c?"

"In bed."

Sam glanced around in puzzlement. "Um...together?"

O'Neill turned from the counter where he'd started a pot of coffee. He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, standing it on end. "Sorry, Carter. I was zonked on the couch. I'm assuming they're not together." He gave Sam a quick smile. "Daniel got one of his killer headaches soon after we threw the meat on the grill, so Teal'c drove him home."

"Teal'c?"

The Colonel leaned back against the counter, his hands jammed into the pockets of his trousers. "Yep." He shrugged. "It was either Teal'c or me, and..."

"Oh." Sam set the large cake down and rubbed her hands together nervously, wincing as she brushed across the stitches that Fraiser had put in when they got back from PJ2-445. "I should, ah...go." She began to edge her way out of the kitchen, acutely aware that she was here alone with her CO, relatively late at night. _Off limits, off limits!_ Her brain was zinging with warnings. She was quite aware that her feelings for her commanding officer bordered on the "inappropriate" side of the Air Force's definition of professional relationships. She knew, because she'd spent an hour reading through the reg that dealt with the issue, Air Force Instruction 36-2909 to be precise; a supremely unsatisfying hour at that. Firmly telling her conscience to be silent, she gestured toward the cake, "Um, you can...you're welcome to the cake, Colonel."

"Carter." O'Neill stepped forward, laying a hand on her arm. "You eat yet?"

"No, Sir. I came straight from the Control Room."

"C'mon." The Colonel tugged gently on the arm he still held, leading her out onto the porch. "I'm pretty sure the fire is still...yep." O'Neill grinned back at Carter. "Teal'c built it pretty high before Daniel's migraine hit." With a tiny push he sent Sam on down toward the still burning fire in the pit at the end of his yard. "I'm gonna nuke some food, okay?"

"Sir." Sam stopped and turned to where O'Neill stood, silhouetted in the light coming from his kitchen. "I...it's okay. I can head home. You've already–"

"Aah!" The Colonel held up a hand. "Nope. We never got to eat. The steaks were on the grill when Daniel's head thing kicked in, but they left before we could eat. I sat down to call you, closed my eyes for a moment and crashed right out until you got here. So now I have four perfectly cooked steaks and two hungry people. Seems about right to me." He waved her toward the firepit. "G'wan, Captain. Sit, sit, sit. I'll be back in a minute."

Sam watched as he turned and returned to the kitchen, pulling things from the refrigerator and putting them into the microwave. She shrugged, despite the increasingly loud voice in her head. She needed to eat and he had food...it was all perfectly harmless, wasn't it? _Keep telling yourself that, Samantha._ _Shut up_ , she silently ordered. Sam shrugged and crossed the lawn toward the welcome fire.

When O'Neill returned, Sam was settled on the worn cushion she so often occupied, her feet stretched toward the fire and her back resting against the picnic bench he always left so close to the pit. She had her head tipped back onto the bench seat and her eyes closed, but when she heard him approach, she peeked one eye open at him. "So, what's for dinner, Colonel?"

"Steak and salad."

"Sounds great."

She held both plates as O'Neill settled himself at her side, pulling out two bottles of Guinness from the pocket of his worn corduroy jacket. "Do you need a glass?"

"No, Sir. I'm good with the bottle. Thanks." She traded a plate for a bottle, setting it aside while she concentrated on the plate in her lap. The steak was juicy and tender and done just right; the Colonel had obviously decided against the microwave in favor of a skillet. They ate quietly, the silence between them comfortable. The fire before them burned brightly providing enough light to see each other but not so much that it masked the bright stars overhead. It was a perfect Colorado evening.

Sam ate her fill and finally reached back to set her plate on the bench behind her. "That was great, Colonel. Really." Sam took a long swallow of her Guinness and cast a sidelong glance at her CO. "Sir?"

"Carter?"

"Did you...did you really call Daniel "flakey?"

O'Neill fiddled with the remainder of his dinner, then he too set his plate aside. He finished his Guinness before turning to face her. "Well," he shrugged. "Yes. But he called me ignorant and condescending."

"Oh." Sam frowned and looked away.

"Not to worry, Carter, we made up."

"Yes, Sir. I know. He told me." Sam continued to stare into the fire, her thoughts wandering. She was only peripherally aware of O'Neill rising and disappearing into the house. After a moment she looked up to see him standing above her, two more plates balanced in one hand and two steaming mugs in the other. "Oh, Colonel, I couldn't eat the second steak."

"Nope, I'm saving those for breakfast."

"Sir?" Sam tried to still the flutter that raced through her at his words. She knew he didn't mean that in the way it came out, but she still couldn't prevent the frission of excitement that shot through her. The Colonel seemed to be oblivious to her reaction as he returned to his seat, his arm brushing hers along the way.

O'Neill handed her a plate laden with a huge wedge of chocolate cake and set the two mugs between them. "Tea for you, coffee for me." He took a huge bite of his cake and quirked a small smile at her. "C'mon, Captain. No sense in letting a perfectly good chocolate cake go to waste."

"No, Sir." Sam focused on her cake, her thoughts again turning to where they'd been wandering while he had gone inside.

"Carter."

"Hmm?" Sam absently played with the frosting on her fork.

"You know that it's not spaghetti, right? Most people don't swirl chocolate cake."

"Huh?" Sam looked up, then down at her plate. "Sorry, Colonel. Guess I'm more tired than I thought. Mind's wandering."

"Wanna share?"

"No, Sir. It's okay..." Sam trailed off, not sure if she wanted to voice her thoughts. It was nagging at her and she wanted to ask, but... Taking a deep breath she turned to him. "Colonel? Remember when you said these," Sam waved her hand to indicate the two of them and the campfire. "That we could consider this a...ah..."

"Safe zone?"

"Yes." Sam nodded, her eyes still on the fire as she considered her words.

"Yes. And? Therefore?" The Colonel's voice was softer, his tone slightly teasing as he sipped his coffee and waited for Sam to continue.

Sam could feel O'Neill's gaze as he turned his full attention to her. She swallowed hard, his intense focus unnerving her and she wondered if she really wanted an answer to her question after all. The words she wanted to ask rolled around in her head, bouncing from thought to thought in chaotic motion. No, this was probably a really bad idea... Just as quickly as she had decided to ask, she chickened out. "Ah...I was...just checking."

"Carrrterrr." The Colonel drew out her name, his low tone making her shiver. It got worse when he spoke again. " Just checking' is the same as 'never mind' in my book. Spill it." O'Neill leaned sideways and nudged her shoulder with his. "C'mon, Sam. Nothing's off limits here, remember?"

Letting out a deep sigh, Sam set her half-eaten cake wedge aside. She slid her legs up and wrapped her arms around them in an unconscious gesture of protection. Finally she asked, her voice barely audible, "I wonder what you would have called me if I had been the one on the planet with you? Sir."

"Hmm. Well, certainly not 'flakey.'" O'Neill set his own plate aside and leaned forward to gently lay another log on the fire. He fidgeted with a small twig, bending and flipping it around his nimble fingers, his eyes on the dancing flames. Several long minutes passed before he tilted his head toward her. "You know...I can't think of what I would have said to you. It's so...easy...to get mad at Daniel, you know? He's just so...so..." The Colonel waved his hand around airily, at a loss for the right word.

"Earnest?"

"Yes! Earnest is a good word. And not in the 'lost for forty years on an alien planet' way. Exactly." Still facing her, O'Neill sought her gaze and held it, his brown eyes intent upon her own. "You... Carter, you and I think so much alike that I can't imagine...I mean..." Now he looked away, obviously uncomfortable. "Anyway. I think it wouldn't have been an issue."

"Really?"

"Sure. At least not for me." He shrugged, then quirked a small smile her way. "You, on the other hand, probably would have had some choice things to say about me."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Um...no, Sir. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have dared to call you ignorant."

"You might have thought it."

"No. Never." Sam was adamant. The whole 'calling your CO an idiot" thing aside, if there was one thing Jack O'Neill was not, it was ignorant. He hid it well, but she was certain that her CO was quite brilliant.

"Good to know."

Sam felt herself relaxing, truly relaxing, for the first time since they'd returned. Between rigging the new sound wave generator for the planet, the multiple debriefings they'd had to endure and the ongoing issues with the dialing program, she'd been going full-out since they'd returned from PJ2-445. It was nice to just...sit a while. Especially here, with... _Dammit, Samantha. Just...let it_ go _for a while!_ Sam shifted, uncomfortable with the direction in which her thoughts had wandered...again. At O'Neill's curious look she faked a yawn. "It's getting late, Sir. I guess I should head home."

The Colonel nodded and rose smoothly, then offered her a hand up. "Sure, Carter. Thanks for staying."

"Thanks for dinner." She gave his hand a quick squeeze before dropping it and turning away. O'Neill rested his hand in the small of her back, gently guiding her through the dark yard and up to the side gate. Once there he popped the latch and led her around to the front of the house. The neighborhood was quiet, lit only by a few scattered streetlamps. In the distance Sam could hear the occasional bark of a neighbor's dog. Away from the warmth of the fire she could really feel the chill of the mountain air, and she shivered slightly.

"Cold?"

"A bit. The fire felt nice."

"Glad it was still going when you got here."

"Me too, Sir." Sam bent and unlocked her car, sliding inside with easy familiarity. She rolled down the window to speak to O'Neill, who stood, one hand laying atop to roof of her car, the other on the window frame. "Well, thanks again, Colonel. I really appreciate the...ah...'team night.'" She smiled up at him and was rewarded with a warm smile, his own eyes twinkling in response. "Though, I guess we can't really call it a team night, eh, Sir? Since half the team wasn't here"

The Colonel smiled again, then leaned close, his voice deliberately low and quiet. "Probably shouldn't really call it a date, either."

Sam froze, here eyes wide. "No. Sir." _Yes,_ her mind screamed, _Yes! Call it a date!_ _For the last time,_ she firmly told the voice, _SHUT UP!_ "Pr–" She cleared her suddenly hoarse throat and tried again, "Probably not."

The Colonel flashed her a last quick grin and rose, tapping the roof of the car as he did so. "Good night, Carter. Drive safe."

""Night, Sir." Sam rolled up the window against the evening's chill as she backed out of the driveway. She hoped he couldn't see well enough in the darkness to know how deeply affected she was by his suggestion of a date. Had there been more light, Sam might have seen O'Neill's face as he stood and watched her disappear into the night, a lingering look of longing that mirrored her own.


	20. Manufactured Holidays and Broken Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well. First let me apologize for another delay in Campfire stories. It's finals week and I have a stack of items to grade. This story is...well, it mentions Mother's Day but is certainly not in honor of it. Despite what the ad currently airing on TV says, not _everyone_ thinks of their mother's on Mother's Day. In fact, some of us try hard not to. It's a holiday I dread every year, having struggled for years with infertility and finally facing the fact that I would never have a child of my own. Add to that some abandonment issues...I digress. So...if you're looking for a squishy MD story, this ain't it. I will end this tragic little note with this. I do have two wonderful (grown) step-children who make the day bearable. Thank you.

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: Well. First let me apologize for another delay in Campfire stories. It's finals week and I have a stack of items to grade. This story is...well, it mentions Mother's Day but is certainly not in honor of it. Despite what the ad currently airing on TV says, not _everyone_ thinks of their mother's on Mother's Day. In fact, some of us try hard not to. It's a holiday I dread every year, having struggled for years with infertility and finally facing the fact that I would never have a child of my own. Add to that some abandonment issues...I digress. So...if you're looking for a squishy MD story, this ain't it. I will end this tragic little note with this. I do have two wonderful (grown) step-children who make the day bearable. Thank you.

As always, I answer every review (left with a respondable email) and appreciate each one. Thank you for your continued support and friendship.

Additional note: Damn. I completely missed thanking my wonderful Beta, Cags. As always she provides great feedback on my stories and makes them better. Thanks Cags!

Set after _Show and Tell_.

 _  
**Manufactured Holidays and Broken Dreams**   
_

Samantha Carter slowly eased herself back from the villagers, smiling and nodding until she reached the back of the crowd. Night had fallen quickly in the mountain village, and almost everyone was gathering, as they had each night, around the large bonfire set in the center of the collection of huts. Waving off invitations to join families and new friends at the main fire or smaller ones, Sam carefully made her way back toward the small, domed hut she and the rest of her team shared. After four and a half weeks on the planet, most of that time spent in and around the K'nare village, Sam was almost as comfortable maneuvering between the huts as she was the halls of the SGC at night. There was no moonlight tonight, both of the planet's orbiting bodies were in their dark phase. While that made for better stargazing, it did make it just a little more difficult to find her way. To keep her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sam kept her eyes away from the smaller, more intimate campfires of the tents of the "newly paired," as the K'nare shaman had called them. More than once she or a member of her team had unwittingly stumbled upon one of those new couples celebrating their recent...union. It was more of a cultural experience than she ever really wanted to experience again.

As she rounded the last hut, Sam paused, taking in the lone figure of her CO. He was sitting alone again, as he had done each night since they'd arrived. She hated to see him like this, sitting there, his gaze distant and far away, so obviously in pain. Last night she'd promised herself that if it happened again she would do something about it. Unfortunately the firm resolve she felt the night before had faded with the brightness of today, and now Sam was unsure of her next step. She only knew that she needed to do something...anything...to ease the Colonel's pain. She refused to look too closely at why his pain hurt her so much.

Sam took a deep breath and stepped forward into the circle of light cast by their campfire.

"Hi, Sir."

"Carter."

Sam ducked inside the tent and grabbed her jacket, knowing the night would get much colder before too long. She automatically reached for O'Neill's as well. She paused before ducking back out of the hut, grabbing one more item from her gear bag. She stepped close to the fire and joined the Colonel on the low rock set as a bench. They were both so tall that "bench" was a generous term. The flat surface of the long, low rock sat barely four inches above the ground, just enough to make it comfortable for Sam to fold her legs Indian-style before the fire. Whoever had built the hut had set the rock close enough to the sloping side of the hidebound house to serve as a backrest, something for which Sam was grateful.

"Here, Sir." Sam handed O'Neill his jacket.

"Thanks."

The Colonel hadn't looked up and Sam once again reconsidered her resolve from the night before. She reached into her own jacket pocket, fingering the envelope she'd just put there. _Do it, don't do it. Do it, don't do it._ The words wound around her brain in an endless circle. The two officers sat together silently, each lost to their own thoughts. The fire before them hissed and crackled, a counterpoint to their studied silence. The layout of the round, domed huts lent an air of privacy to their site, the sounds of the villagers distant and far away.

Just as Sam was deciding to abandon her plan, O'Neill spoke up. "Where are the boys?"

"Teal'c's gone with the shaman. He wanted to learn more about Teal'c's kel-no-reem technique." Sam glanced up and saw the Colonel watching her. "Daniel, ah, is chatting with–"

"Let me guess. The women?"

Sam smiled at her CO. "They do tend to flock to him, don't they, Sir?"

Quirking a small smile of his own in response, Jack nodded. "They do."

A companionable silence fell over them again and this time Sam was reluctant to break it. He seemed more...O'Neill-like...tonight that he had been since they'd arrived. She was hesitant to destroy that new, albeit welcome, mood. The mission here was a cakewalk for the team. While normally SG-1 would have handed off such a simple meet and greet to another team after first contact, the fact that they'd had so many high-risk missions recently had worked in their favor. Hammond, after receiving their initial report, had ordered SG-1 to the planet for as long as six weeks, if necessary. A survey team would follow, but it would be SG-1 who did the initial negotiations for trade. Daniel was over the moon with excitement while Sam was simply grateful for the break. And, if she was really honest with herself, the opportunity to be offworld at this time of year. As hard as the holiday was for her, this year was the first time she had ever given serious thought to how hard it was for her CO. _Damned Hallmark and their manufactured holidays._ She thought back to the conversation she'd overheard the night before they'd left on this mission.

 _Sam, her attention focused on the report in her hands, stepped into the elevator, barely noticing who was inside. She nodded absently as she was greeted, her mind still on what she was reading. Behind her the two SF's already in the elevator when she got on were still talking. She tuned them out until O'Neill's name came up. Keeping her head down, she listened carefully._

" _...what kind of a guy turns a kid away when he asks that?" The disgust in Sergeant's Evans' voice was clear._

" _Crap, the kid really asked him that?" Chief Master Sergeant Lowery sounded almost sick._

" _Yeah. O'Neill pretty much blew him off. Miller and I both were like, 'what the hell?'"_

" _Jesus Paul. You have no idea."_

" _What?"_

" _O'Neill. Man. He had a kid once, you know? Named Charlie."_

" _But...the alien kid...he wanted to be called..."_

" _Yeah. I know. 'Bout broke me up when the kid asked that, lemme tell ya. Now you say the kid asked O'Neill if he could be the guy's son? Shit. How much can a guy take?"_

" _Wait...'had'?"_

" _You don't know? Oh damn. 'S'cuse me ma'am."_

 _Sam looked up and blinked, deliberately acting as if she hadn't been hanging on every word. "Sorry?"_

" _Oh, never mind, ma'am." The Chief flashed a quick smile at Evans, sharing an eye roll at her distraction. "Anyway, the way I hear it..."_

 _Sam missed the rest of the Chief's story as the doors opened on her floor. Clutching the report to her chest, she nodded to the men and hurried off to her lab._

Sam closed her eyes against the wave of pain she felt again at the conversation she'd overheard. As she drove herself home that night words of the two men went round and round in her head. Determined to distract herself, she'd turned on NPR, only to hear them doing their annual 'tribute to mother's,' and it had all proven too much.

Mother's Day was a holiday she'd hated since she was 14. The hype and over dramatization that appeared every year on television and on the radio made it harder for her to get through the day each year. Add to that the fact that she had begun to feel that...pull...to have children of her own. There was a secret part of the super successful, wildly smart, world-saving astrophysicist Air Force officer that longed to be a member of the club. The logical part of her brain argued that she still had plenty of time, that once things settled down in the war against the Goa'uld that her time would come. Sam refused to let herself consider just who it was she had in mind as a partner to create and raise these fantasy children. There was no going there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Meanwhile, every year in mid-May, Sam Carter found herself ignoring all television, radio and even most grocery stores for about a month. Just until the tide of oppressive pink flowery cards and baskets receded for another year. And, until the night before they'd left on this mission, she hadn't ever thought of how the corresponding men's holiday was for her Colonel. As much as she felt that pull...she refused to consider it an _ache_...not just yet...she couldn't imagine what he'd lived with since Charlie's death. It was the thought of _his_ pain that had ended her self-imposed exile from the card section during the month of May. She'd snapped off the radio and turned into the nearest store. Sam found herself standing before a dizzying array of cards. It was too soon for the card she wanted, but she was hoping someone had stocked them early.

" _Can I help you?"_

 _The overly saccharine voice of the teenaged clerk made her grind her teeth. This was hard enough without an audience. However, since she couldn't find what she wanted, Sam gave up. "Do you have any Father's Day cards?"_

 _The teen looked at her blankly, almost pityingly. Very slowly, as if Sam were simple, she said, "Well, ma'am, you know, it's_ Mother's _Day this weekend._ Father's _Day isn't until next month."_

 _Sam nodded impatiently. "Yes, I know. But...we're going to be out of town and I need to be sure..."_

" _Oh." The girl glanced around, then leaned closer and smiled. "First time, eh? Hang on a sec." She left Sam standing in the aisle uncomfortably. Several minutes passed and just as Sam was going to give the idea up as a lost cause, the girl reappeared. "I know how it is, you don't want to miss a first-timer's big day, eh? I could only grab these, you'll have to pick from this pile."_

" _Oh." Sam did nothing to correct the girl's assumption, she was grateful enough for her extra effort. Swiftly skimming the cards, she finally selected one she thought would work. "Thanks so much..." Sam spotted the girl's nametag, "Tara."_

" _No prob." The girl cocked her head as she rang up Sam's purchase. "You sure have a rockin' body for a new mom. What do you do?"_

 _Sam quickly shoved the card into her bag as she left. She looked back at Tara and answered, "I run."_

Sam winced slightly as she realized true her words to Tara had been. For years she'd avoided the holiday, for her own self-preservation as a child and now as an adult for different reasons. The Colonel's arm brushed hers as he leaned in and added another log onto the fire, jarring her from her reflection. Despite the lateness of the hour, neither seemed willing to retire. Sam thought again of the alien Charlie, wondering how he was faring amongst the Tok'ra. She blinked back tears, ducking her head so her CO wouldn't see.

"Smoke in your eyes, Carter?"

"Ah, yes, Sir."

"Really? The fire's not too smoky." O'Neill bent toward her, catching her gaze. "C'mon, Carter, spill. What's got you down?"

Sam took a deep breath. Four weeks on this planet had relaxed them all, she realized. They still maintained that structure so crucial to military command but she was aware that they, all of them, had reached a new level of comfort together. That new level was especially apparent to her in her relationship with the Colonel. It was that awareness that prompted her to speak. "Well, Sir. It's...I have a...here." Quickly, before she could change her mind, Sam pulled the slightly worn envelope out of her pocket and gave it to O'Neill.

"What's this?"

Sam shrugged and met his gaze. "To be honest, Colonel, it's probably wildly inappropriate, and I'd understand if you want to just toss it on the fire. It seemed like a good idea– "

"Carter. Why don't I open it first, _then_ put it on the fire."

"Yes, Sir."

With a slightly puzzled air, O'Neill slipped a finger under the flap and pulled the card open. The half-smile on his face slipped away as he read the front.

Sam knew the second he realized what the card was for when he stilled. His entire body froze, the only motion she could see was the rise of his chest as he sucked in a surprised breath. _Oh crap, Samantha. This was a_ really _stupid idea!_ She scrambled for a way to recover–for both of them–opening her mouth to say something...anything...when he slowly opened the card and read the rest of the message. Now Sam could think of nothing but getting away. What had seemed to be a good idea on Earth was now a colossally, monumentally bad idea here, hundreds of light-years away. She shoved herself up and away, certain that she'd miscalculated and hurt her CO badly. O'Neill's strangled voice stopped her before she could take a step.

"Why?" His choked question was almost too quiet for her to hear.

Biting back tears of remorse, Sam stuttered her answer. "I...I'm, God, Colonel. This was...I'm..." She backed away from the fire, away from its warmth and light, away from him.

O'Neill blindly reached out and stopped her, his hand wrapped around her leg. "Carter... _Sam_. Stop." He looked up at her, his brown eyes dark with pain and...something else she couldn't identify. He tugged at her baggy trousers, pulling her back to the fire. "C'mon...sit." O'Neill waited until she was perched on the edge of their rock before asking again, "Why?"

Sam sat, tension evident in every line of her body, on the edge of the rock, poised to flee at the first sign that it was necessary. Now that he'd asked, she couldn't really articulate for him why she'd done it. Why give a man who's lost one son and been so painfully reminded of it with another lost boy, a Father's Day card? She really had no words but knew he was expecting some sort of response. Finally she looked up, her clear blue eyes meeting his dark gaze. "I hate Mother's Day."

Whatever he'd been expecting to hear from her, it clearly wasn't that. "Wh– I'm sorry. Carter?" His confusion was clear.

Sam sighed and eased herself further onto the rock. "I hate Mother's Day. Always have. Well, not always, just since..."

"Yeah, I get it." He glanced away, down at the card he still clutched in his hand. "But..."

Shrugging, Sam gave up trying to sound like an intelligent adult. "I don't know, Sir. I was driving home the other day, right after Char– I mean the Reetu boy left with my Dad. It was the Friday before Mother's Day and the ads were on, and I got to thinking about how much I really hate that holiday, and..." Sam looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Then I thought about how you must feel on Father's Day. It got to me. I was feeling down, and..."

"You hate Mother's Day just 'cause of your Mom?"

"Ye...well, no. Well...yes and no."

"Oh." O'Neill gave her a tiny smile. "That's very clear, Carter."

"I just...last year I had to explain the holiday to Cassie, you know? So she'd get Janet something. And while I was doing it, I was wishing...never mind. Anyway–"

"I thought we agreed that there was no 'never mind' at our campfires, Sam."

"Yes, Sir. That's what we said."

"So, and, therefore?" Once again O'Neill flashed her a brief smile, his earlier pain fading. He waited for her to speak and when it was apparent that she wasn't going to, he continued, surprise evident in his voice. "You wanted Cassie, didn't you?"

"For about a minute. Then I realized how impractical it was."

"Impractical, schmactical, Sam. You _wanted_ Cassie." O'Neill reached out and turned her face toward him.

Sam blinked back tears and just nodded.

"Oh, Carter. If you had said the word...any word...and you know I'd– we'd have–"

Sam shook her head slightly, dislodging his hand. "No, Sir. She's better off with a mother who's not in combat. Who's not gone all the time. I know that. But sometimes...when the ads are on, I get to wondering..."

They were silent for a long minute, Sam aware of the Colonel's warm gaze still on her. Finally he looked away, opening and rereading the card she'd given him. She was beginning to think that perhaps the card hadn't been such a bad idea after all. "Sir?"

"Yeah."

"I'm, ah, sorry if getting the card...hurt. I just thought that...well, I guess I thought that _I_ hate the Mother's Day holiday and I'll bet Father's Day is no picnic for you...and..." Sam trailed off again, not sure how to say what she wanted to. She glanced at him and found his eyes on hers once again. The steady warmth she saw there gave her the courage she needed. Softly she said, "I guess I hoped that maybe if you knew there was someone else who hated their holiday as much as I think you might yours, that... well, maybe we can learn to not dislike those days together. Sir." The honorific was late, an afterthought almost.

"Kind of like a fresh start."

"Kind of, yes, Sir."

O'Neill studied her for a long minute then dropped his gaze toward the fire. He reached out and pulled Sam further back onto the rock until their shoulders were touching, his body warm against hers.

Sam watched as he replaced the card into its envelope and carefully tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Once done he rested his hands on his lap and settled his weight more firmly against her shoulder. The quiet of the settling village crept over them and they were content to sit together, leaning on one another, and watching the flames dance, reaching always toward the stars above.

O'Neill's voice was soft as he broke the silence. "Hey, Carter."

"Sir?" Sam's voice was equally soft in the night. She was feeling the weight of the day's exercise and the evening's emotions pulling at her and was fighting to keep her head from drifting to her Colonel's shoulder.

"D'you know that that's the first Father's Day card I've ever gotten?"

Wide awake now, Sam jerked her head up. "What? Why?" She felt O'Neill's shrug against her shoulder and turned to face him, his profile kissed by the firelight. _Charlie had been eight when he'd died, how on Earth could he have never gotten a card?_

"I was overseas when Charlie was born, and for the first two Father's Day's after that." O'Neill shrugged again, the movement vibrating through Sam. "Sara really didn't believe in the holiday, said it was made-up. And...the year that...when he was old enough to maybe do it on his own, he...I...lost him before that day."

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I shouldn't have–"

"No. It's fine. I just...thanks, Carter."

The Colonel's voice was low and quiet, the warm tone washing over her like a balm. Sam closed her eyes and gave in to what she needed, what she hoped they both needed. She lowered her head and rested it against his shoulder, for the first time truly taking advantage of the space he'd dubbed their "safe zone." The last of the tension from their exchange slowly drained away, leaving her exhausted it its wake. Sam's eyes drifted shut as she slipped into sleep, secure in the small circle of warmth they'd created between them.

Hours later, when Teal'c and Daniel returned to their hut to retire for the night, both men paused at the sight of the two Air Force officers slumped together, apparently sound asleep. O'Neill sat with his back against the domed hut, Carter asleep with her head upon his shoulder, O'Neill's cheek resting atop her head. The two men silently exchanged glances and Daniel ducked into the tent, returning with one of the bedrolls nearest the door. He handed it to Teal'c who carefully draped it across their two sleeping teammates. With a final glance at the two, Daniel and Teal'c quietly retired.

Outside, the fire burned low and the stars slowly moved across the velvety black sky. As the night breeze picked up, neither officer stirred, save to burrow that much closer under the blanket.

End.

Afterword: I've had some reviewers ask about the words in the card. I deliberately left that to the reader to imagine. g


	21. Relativity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, here it is. The campfire that inspired the Campfires! I have been blocked on this story for so long! I, for some reason, was really hesitant to write this. I've only seen the episode twice, once when it aired and again today at the gym. I'm sure there's nothing funnier than a short blonde going nuts on an exercise bike (still can't use my own bike 'cause of the damned wrist) and laughing out loud at her little iTouch. Great episode, kudos to Brad Wright (he wrote it).

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: Well, here it is. The campfire that inspired the Campfires! I have been blocked on this story for so long! I, for some reason, was really hesitant to write this. I've only seen the episode twice, once when it aired and again today at the gym. I'm sure there's nothing funnier than a short blonde going nuts on an exercise bike (still can't use my own bike 'cause of the damned wrist) and laughing out loud at her little iTouch. Great episode, kudos to Brad Wright (he wrote it).

Anyway...I wondered just _how_ Sam got the injury to her hand that tipped Hammond off and reminded him to hand her the note. Now we know. As always, no review is too small, even the simplest "Loved it" can go a long way. Of course, "Hated it" does too. I save 'em all and answer them all.

Set during _1969_.

 _  
**Relativity**   
_

Jack watched as Michael led Jenny back into the bus. They'd talked for another hour after the young couple confronted the team with what they knew and then had subsequently agreed to help SG1 get "home." He'd hated to lie to them but really felt he had no other choice. The two were so young, so trusting...Jack shrugged. Sometimes the little lie was better than the alternative.

"Daniel Jackson. It seems as if your viewing of my favorite films has indeed helped our cause."

"Sorry Teal'c?"

From her perch beside Jack Sam let out a small snicker. She leaned over Jack's knee and said softly, "Really Daniel? 'From a galaxy far, far away?'"

Jack didn't bother to hide his smile as Daniel ducked his head and his face flushed. Careful to keep his voice low so their hosts wouldn't overhear, he added, "'...a _place_ called New York...'?"

At that Sam lost her battle with her giggles. She snorted and then spit her mouthful of soup into the fire with a loud cough. She wiped her eyes and glared at the Colonel, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Sir!" She coughed again, glancing furtively over her shoulder. "Don't _do_ that! Not when I've got a mouthful of soup!" Sam continued clearing her throat as she fought to expel the liquid she'd inhaled.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jack reached around behind her and gently patted her on the back, ostensibly to help her out. He leaned close to her and said, in a voice low enough that only she would hear, "I believe we've had our discussion about... _giggling_...haven't we, Captain?"

Daniel gathered up his and Teal'c's mugs and defended himself, hissing at Jack, "Hey, c'mon. I was only trying to go along with your whole, 'not the establishment of _this_ planet' thing. How'd you know they weren't going to freak on us?"

"C'mon Daniel, it's the 60's!" Jack glanced from Daniel to Teal'c, then over to Carter. He realized he was still absently rubbing her back and he quickly dropped his hand back into his lap. He quirked another look at Teal'c and received only a raised eyebrow in return. "You know...free love, 'make love, not war,' 'peace,' 'love,' unity'..." Jack trailed off at the blank looks on his teams faces. "Can you dig it'?"

Teal'c looked around in confusion. "What is it you wish for me to dig, O'Neill?"

"Oh for...it's just a phrase, Teal'c. It means...it means...aw hell. Daniel?"

"I told you, Jack. I was only about four and a half then...er, now."

Seeing no hope there, Jack turned to Carter. "Captain? A little help?"

Carter, still blinking back tears left over from inhaling her mouthful of tea, merely shrugged. "Can't help you, Colonel. I'm only...um, I mean, I _was_ only about eight months old now. Then." She exchanged helpless glances with Daniel.

With a glance at O'Neill, Daniel tried to explain. "Teal'c, it's just a colloquialism. It was started, I think–"

Jack frowned and reached to refill his and Carter's mugs. Despite having gone to bed earlier, Jenny had assured them that there was plenty more soup on the bus's stove. "Oh, here we go," he muttered to her as he rose. "I only wanted him to explain what it means, not..." He waved his hand toward the man who was not deeply into his explanation. He wasn't really grumbling, nor was he really irritated, and his Captain's bright smile up at him told him she knew that. They had a plan, they had local allies, and they had a clear objective. All in all, Jack was feeling better about their whole adventure than he expected.

By the time he returned to the still brightly burning campfire only Carter remained. "Where'd the guys go?"

Carter reached automatically for the cup, then winced as the movement pulled at the stitches of her right hand. "Ouch." She instead took the mug in her left, cradling her injured hand in her lap as she sipped the hot liquid. "Thanks, Sir. Daniel went for a walk and Teal'c decided to follow him. To 'keep him clear of trouble,' I think is what he said."

"Hmm." Poking the fire with a small stick, Jack looked pensively at his Second. "So...eight months old, eh?" He shook his head. "God, I really _am_ old enough to be your father."

Carter snorted softly and bumped him with her shoulder. "Sure, Colonel. If you started having babies at what, age nine?"

Smirking at her, Jack sat back up, tossing his stick onto the fire. "Is that an oblique way of asking me how old I am, Captain?"

She shook her head, dropping her gaze from his. Jack got the feeling she was more than a little chagrined at the direction their teasing had taken. He was too, truth be told. He knew he was older than she, but he didn't really want to emphasize just _how_ great that age difference was. Still, maybe that distance would help him to keep clear that line that so often blurred between them. He considered her bent head and finally mumbled, "Sixteen."

"Sir?" Carter's eyes were wide with surprise. "Really?" Then she stopped and considered, and Jack could swear he could see the math being done in her head. "Yeah, I guess you'd have to have been to have...you were in Vietnam, weren't you, Sir?"

"I was."

"God." Clearly catching his surprised look, she quickly added, "I mean...wow, Sir. You've certainly seen your fair share, haven't you?"

Jack looked at her searchingly, wondering what she meant. For his part, he was simply aware that while he had been off learning the tools of the Black Ops trade, this bright young woman was learning to...God, learning to _walk_ for cryin' out loud. It wasn't just the years between them it was a lifetime of experience he would pay money to have foregone. He shook his head, his brain suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of their current situation. Needing a distraction he turned his attention on Carter's injured hand. "How's that doing?" He nudged his chin toward the hand she was still keeping tucked out of the way.

"It's good, Sir. I just sometimes forget and reach..."

"I know." Jack was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I'm really sorry, you know."

"Wasn't your fault, Colonel."

Jack glanced over at her, knowing he'd find her looking back at him. Sure enough, those incredible blue eyes were aimed his way. He swallowed and offered a half-smile, determinedly focusing on the number sixteen.

"Say what you will, Carter, I still feel responsible." Jack knew her injury was the result of him messing around. Or, not really messing around, just trying to find some way to diffuse what could have been an incredibly bad situation between them. Or a galaxy-sized mistake on his part. He pulled her hand from her lap and gently cradled it in his hands, one finger carefully tracing the edge of the line of carefully placed stitches.

 _The lights in the hallways were set low, operating per policy of half-level at night. Jack absently wondered who was responsible for that idea, mimicking the daytime and nighttime surface illumination down here inside the mountain. It had seemed weird to him but now was normal. He'd have to ask Sam...'Carter' he reminded himself sternly, when he found her._ If _he found her, that is. She'd probably tell him that it had something to do with maintaining their diabolical rhythms, or something like that. He glanced again at his watch and frowned. It was 0015, she wasn't likely to be in her lab, but... he stopped and scratched his head, wondering when it had become 'normal' for him to expect to find a teammate in their office nearly seven and a half hours past the official end of their duty day. Oh well, since he was almost already there, he continued toward her lab._

 _As he neared her door he saw shadows moving through the slightly brighter light shining under the door, indicating that someone was indeed home after all. Jack tapped lightly on the door and cautiously eased it open. It paid to be cautious when entering Sam's–_ Carter's– _lab, he knew. It only took two near-misses with small UFO's to convince him of that._

 _Not seeing anyone right away, Jack called out quietly, "Carter? Anybody home?"_

 _A muffled thump followed by a barely suppressed curse drove Jack's eyebrows upward. Following the sounds he eased himself around his Second's desk only to stop in surprise. His normally completely put-together Captain was lying on the floor of her lab on her back, her leg's spread slightly and bent at the knees. Her boots were unlaced and she was wearing worn cotton shorts and the smallest t-shirt Jack had ever seen on an adult woman. As he watched, she raised her hips and wiggled them slightly as she inched herself backward on the floor. From this angle Jack couldn't see her head, nor her hands and forearms, as she was reaching above her head and to the left in an attempt to do...well, whatever she was_ trying _to do was lost on Jack, but the effects of her movements were not. Each time she wiggled and inched, her t-shirt rode up a little more until..._ Holy crap! _Jack swallowed hard. Is her...did she pierce her bellybutton?_

 _Jack's jaw dropped to the floor and he did the only thing he could think of. "Carter!" His snapped out command voice startled them both._

" _Ow! Dammit!" Carter's arms jerked downward and she cursed again. "Sir! Ow! Damn, I'm sorry, Colonel, but...uh oh."_

 _To Jack's dismay he watched as she lowered her arms to her belly, thankfully covering up the sparkling bellybutton distraction. Unfortunately that allowed Jack to see that she was cradling her right hand in her left and that she wasn't very successful at staunching the flow of blood._

 _Without thinking he grabbed her by the ankles and slid her out from under her bench toward him. He reached for the phone to call for the medics when she abruptly sat up, shaking her head and leaning heavily on his arm._

" _No, Sir. Please don't." Carter's face was as red as the blood staining her...very...tiny... t-shirt. "I'm ah...not dressed right...oh God." She ducked her head and clenched her left hand harder around her right, her already fair skin sliding dangerously toward white._

" _Shit. I'm sorry, Carter." Jack quickly pulled off his BDU shirt and wrapped it over her shoulders, then tried to get a look at the cut on her hand. "C'mon, Captain. I'll walk you to the infirmary."_

" _Please, Colonel. I promise to go, just..._ please _...let me change. I'll never hear the end of this." Carter turned her huge blue eyes on him. She glanced down at his overshirt draped over her shoulders, his nametape clearly showing. "That," she indicated his name with a dip of her chin. "That will only make it worse. Please."_

 _Jack studied her for a long moment, acknowledging to himself that he really couldn't deny this woman anything, especially when she pleaded with him. He slowly stood and helped her to her feet. Because her hands were busy, he gently reached around and tugged her t-shirt as low around her hips as he could, sternly telling himself to ignore the sensations that shot through him as his fingers caressed the smooth skin of her back and sides. Once she was steady he pulled his overshirt off of her shoulders and draped it over his arm._

" _You're gonna be okay?"_

" _I'll just run back to my quarters...okay,_ walk _," she amended at the look on his face. "I'll go change and then hit the infirmary._

 _Jack was reluctant to let her out of his sight, especially when he could see how much blood she'd lost and continued to lose. However, he also knew that his Captain fiercely guarded her reputation and that something like this could be taken wildly out of context. Finally he agreed, but held up one finger. "Okay, Captain. You go. But...if I don't get a phone call from you in under an hour telling me you're clean, stitched, and cleared by medical, then I'm coming for you."_

" _I promise, Sir." She pushed herself away from her desk and stepped toward her door, pausing just before she left. "Colonel? Thank you. I mean it."_

" _Shoo, Captain. The clock is ticking."_

"Sir?"

Sam's soft voice pulled O'Neill from his thoughts, making him wonder just how long he'd been sitting there with her hand cradled between his. He looked up to find her watching him, her gaze warm on his, her expression concerned. "I'm okay, Captain. I was just thinking...you never did tell me what it was you were doing that night." Jack released her hand but looked significantly at the healing injury.

"Oh." Carter ducked her head and even in the light of the fire Jack could see her rising blush. "I, ah...well...I dropped something."

"'Dropped something'?" Jack shook his head in disbelief. "Carter, you were in your lab wearing nothing but unlaced combat boots, shorts and the world's tiniest t-shirt! What the hell could you have dropped? And what could it have _possibly_ fallen out of?" Despite keeping his voice low, Jack's voice was incredulous.

"I...okay, look. I was in bed, or almost anyway when I realized that I dropped something. I mean, I realized that I didn't have something I always have with me and I...well, I guess I panicked. A little. Then I remembered that I had been...that it was probably on my desk, and..." Carter shrugged one shoulder and looked at him before quickly looking away. She wouldn't quite meet his eyes and Jack was intrigued.

"Couldn't it have waited until morning?"

"No, Sir. I was afraid that the cleaning crew would come through and...well, that it would be gone."

Jack straightened and tried to ease the muscles in his back. They'd been sitting at this fire for hours now and his back was letting him know it. He was, however, still puzzled. "You know, Captain, that any jewelry or personal items found by the crew are always turned in. Remember my OTS ring?"

Beside him Carter nodded, still not meeting his gaze.

"Carter? Was it jewelry?"

"No, Sir." Her voice was low, almost inaudible.

"But...it was valuable."

"It was. Is."

Jack could feel her take a deep breath. They were sitting close enough that when she inhaled her arm rose and fell, brushing against his. It looked to him like she was steeling herself for something painful. Something important. He decided to wait her out, to see what she would say. He hadn't really intended to push her on this, but he'd been wondering for days about her...interesting...choice of attire for late-night lab work.

After a long moment, Carter set her now cold mug of soup aside and fished inside of the pocket of her long patchwork skirt. She pulled out a worn and slightly tattered piece of paper, one that looked vaguely familiar to him. Silently, her unwavering gaze now locked on his, Carter held it out to him.

Holding her gaze, Jack reached for the slip of paper. He gently opened it, careful of the oft-folded creases that made the paper fragile and was surprised to find his own handwriting.

 _Brave, brave were the soldiers...who lived through the fight._

Jack lifted his eyes to Carter's, noting the barely-checked fear in her eyes. His breath caught as the implications of what she had said, and what she hadn't said...along with the importance she placed on this tiny slip of paper...slowly sank in. He quite literally couldn't catch his breath for a moment. She'd kept this note? He'd only meant to buck her up, to encourage her. To find that she'd saved such a tiny piece of paper just because he'd written... _oh, ease up, Jack. It was the words that were important, not who gave them to her. Sixteen years, Jack. Sixteen years. Remember that!_ Finally, his voice gruff with something he wasn't sure he could identify, he asked her, disbelief coloring his tone. "This...this is so important to you?"

Carter dropped her gaze from his and turned her face away. He could see her blinking rapidly and heard her take in a ragged breath.

"Hey...Carter... Sam, wait." God, he hated it when she cried. "Don't read anything into that, I was just...surprised."

"You wrote it. I mean, you...the words were...are...important, but you..." She sucked in a breath and straightened her shoulders. "You probably think it's silly. And girly. And..."

"Sam." Jack's voice was still low, but now held the unmistakable note of command. "Look at me."

As she slowly turned her head back toward him, Jack reached deep into his jacket, pulling out a battered and worn envelope. He watched as her eyes widened in recognition. It was the envelope containing the Father's Day card she'd given him just a few months back. Jack slowly pulled the card out of it's almost non-existent protective sheath and silently handed it to her. He studied her face as she opened the card and looked again at what she'd written beneath the message printed inside. As she read, he silently echoed the words inside that he knew were forever engraved upon his heart.

 _If all the fathers in the world held out their hand in friendship,  
yours is the one I'd hold. –Anonymous._

 _Jack, since I'm going outside the lines and giving you this,  
I may as well go all the way and call you by name. I believe  
that someday you will be father to _   
_  
another   
_   
_little boy  
who will be lucky enough to call you 'Dad.' I hope I'm  
there to see it._

 _With love and friendship, SC._

"I...I thought I'd screwed up, Sir. Giving you that card." Carter whispered. She swallowed hard and looked down, the fingers of her left hand absently playing with the steri-strips on her right. "It's so far out of line..."

"No more than my dropping notes in your locker, Carter."

"I guess." She shrugged again and shivered slightly in the rising evening dampness. "So...you see, Colonel. Why I nee– er, wanted to get it back." She handed him back his card and he returned her note. "It...I just hated to see it lost."

"I understand."

"Really, Sir?" She turned her face toward his, her tone and her eyes asking so much more than the simple question implied.

"Really." Jack didn't look away. He watched the firelight play across her face, shading her startling blue eyes and softening her already smooth features. He tried to tell her as much as he was able, without words, just how much he understood her need to keep that small scrap of paper close.

Carter studied his face for a long, silent moment. Jack wondered what she saw there. He knew that in her he had found something he wasn't quite willing or able to put words to. Not just yet. She was...Carter. _His_ Carter. She was important to him. Necessary, even. But he wasn't certain he was willing to admit that to himself and certainly not to her. Eventually she carefully refolded her note and returned it to her pocket. She glanced down at her injured hand, then rested it gently on his knee as she rose smoothly to her feet. "Good night...Colonel." Her voice was velvety soft in the darkness, and the slight hesitation before she said 'Colonel' said so much to him.

"Good night...Captain." Jack's hesitation matched her own, the unspoken word sliding into the pause before the formal salutation. He watched her disappear into the trees as she headed back toward the bus to curl up on the blankets they'd piled on the benches and seats.

Who did he think he was kidding? Just as he'd kept the card she'd given him, she'd kept his note. It wasn't the words, or _just_ the words, that were significant to either of them. It was because they'd come from _them_ , one given to the other, that was important. Jack doubted that had anyone else given him that card–with the exception of his son–that he'd have kept it, let alone carry it on his person for every mission since. Just as he was now certain that had someone else given her that note she wouldn't have been found on the floor of her lab in the middle of the night dressed in nearly nothing trying desperately to retrieve it. A small smile stole its way across his lips as he looked over to where he knew she lay, preparing to sleep in the darkened bulk of the bus standing silently in the darkness. Suddenly sixteen years didn't seem that great a distance after all.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered into the quiet night.

Afterword: Before I get whapped with comments on the dates, let me just say that my research turned up this: Jack O'Neill, born: October 20 1952; Daniel Jackson, born: July 8 1965; and Samantha Carter, born: December 29, 1968 (which makes her eight months younger than me!)

And...I hadn't meant to reveal what was in Jack's Father's Day card until much later in the series, but Jack apparently had other ideas.

And lastly, I have to add this. The whole Teal'c "What is it you wish for me to dig, O'Neill?" thing was inspired by what I think is the funniest thing I've ever read in fanfic. It comes from a story called _You Just Might Find_ by siegeofangels (find the author on LiveJournal). My only nit is that it's written in first-person, present...an annoying fanfic trend.

" _Hey," Jack says, mock-wounded. "I know plenty of poetry. Kipling, even. You like Kipling?"_

" _Indeed I know not," Teal'c says. "I have never Kippled."_

Seriously, I cried with laughter the first time I read that and it has never failed to bring a smile to my face since.


	22. A Glimpse of What Could Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It is really difficult to set a story against a two-part season ender. So...I decided on this. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again to all who review. I really do save and savor each one and respond to those who provide the means to do so.

  
Share   


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A/N: It is really difficult to set a story against a two-part season ender. So...I decided on this. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again to all who review. I really do save and savor each one and respond to those who provide the means to do so.

Set after _1969_ and before _Out of Mind_.

 _  
**A Glimpse of What Could Be**   
_

Sam Carter added another log to the firepit and scratched absently at the still-healing cut on her hand. At least the stitches were out as of this afternoon. She studied the slightly jagged line of reddened tissue, smiling as she thought of how she'd gotten it. Of all nights to be caught by her CO in the lab, it was the one time she'd dashed down there from her quarters. Dressed only in shorts and her sleeping tee, she'd shoved her feet into the unlaced boots sitting at her bedside, intending to get in and out of her lab with nobody the wiser. Sam shook her head slightly. _When have things ever really gone according to plan, Sam?_

"Something funny?"

She looked up into the warm eyes of her CO and responded automatically to the small smile on his face. Giving him one of her own in return, she shook her head. "No...not really. I was just thinking."

The Colonel snorted as he handed her a still steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Of course you were, Captain. You're _always_ thinking."

"Yup." Sam sipped her hot chocolate for a moment and then smiled at him as he settled onto the cushion beside her. "But that's what you pay me for."

"Nope, not me, Captain!" O'Neill closed his eyes as he drank his coffee. "Ahh. It's good to be home. At least for now."

"Hey, Jack?" Daniel joined the two officers, carefully balancing his own steaming mug and a plate of graham crackers, marshmallows and chunks of chocolate. Teal'c followed closely behind, an enormous stack of sweets on his own plate. "Cass asked me to bring these down, and she wants to know where you keep the special sticks?"

"Cass!" O'Neill leaned his head back to rest it along the bench seat as he called back toward the house. "Come on down, kiddo. They're down here!" Sam winced as he practically shouted into her ear, and when he saw, O'Neill frowned. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay, Sir. I'm sure I'll get my hearing back in time for our mission."

O'Neill stretched his legs out toward the fire and settled himself more comfortably against the bench behind them, his shoulder brushing Sam's as he relaxed. "Maybe we'll be able to postpone...you know, if you can't hear."

Sam turned to study her CO. It wasn't like the Colonel to not want to go on a mission. "You okay, Sir?"

O'Neill faced her, his brown eyes on hers. "Yeah, Carter. I'm good. Just...you know. Tired." He paused for a moment, frowning. "And...well, I have a...funny feeling about tomorrow's mission."

"Sir?"

O'Neill jerked one shoulder up. "Dunno, Carter. Just an...I'm probably just tired."

"Yes, Sir. Me too."

"Sam!" Cassandra's excited voice carried over O'Neill's backyard. "We're here, _finally_." She made a point of glaring at her mother before turning again to the four team members already gathered around the fire. She leaned down to hug Sam, who carefully held her hot mug out to avoid spilling it over both of them. She felt the Colonel pull the mug from her hands and took advantage, wrapping both of her arms around Cassandra's lithe form and pulling her down for a proper hug.

"Wow, Cass. You're really growing!"

"Tell me about it." Janet said drily as she joined them. She stepped around the fire, choosing to sit with Teal'c and Daniel in their customary spots opposite Sam and O'Neill. "That's why we're late. We had to get some new clothes, she's outgrowing everything!"

Cass burrowed herself further onto Sam's lap so that she could reach O'Neill too. "Jack, I've missed you." She pulled back and studied them both. "I've missed you both. You've cancelled our family night dinner three times."

Sam frowned and look at her CO in confusion. "Was it really three, Cass? I know I missed one, but..."

"It was three." Now the young woman sounded almost petulant.

"Cassandra." Janet's quite reprimand carried across the fire.

The Colonel shook his head at Janet. "No, she's right, Doc. We made a promise and broke it." He pulled Cassandra's weight off of Carter and onto his own lap. "Wow, Car...er, Sam's right. You're getting too big for this, young lady." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, making the girl giggle in response. When he released her he leaned back slightly, the movement putting more of his weight on Sam's frame.

Sam watched as her CO carefully studied Cassie's face, his features suddenly solemn. She knew what he was thinking, what he was wondering. After a long moment, Cass broke the mood by leaning in closer and crossing her eyes. She stuck out her tongue and then gave O'Neill a smacking kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay, really, Jack. I know you..." and she gestured to all of them. "I know you can't always predict when things...happen." She shrugged, her simple gesture artlessly graceful. "I just...I miss you, that's all."

Sam reached across the Colonel and hugged the girl again. "I know, sweetie. We...I miss you too." She tucked her chin into Cassie's shoulder and held her close, only slightly startled when the Colonel's arms wrapped around them both. Sam savored the moment, the clean and slightly sweet smell of the girl they'd rescued who'd become so important to all of them, the deeper, spicier scent of the Colonel's aftershave as his arms enveloped them, all mixed with the tangy scent of the cheerfully crackling fire. Sam closed her eyes and held one, leaning deeper into the Colonel's embrace, unwilling to let go of them both. Teal'c's deep voice finally forced Sam to release the teen.

"Cassandra Fraiser. You must assist me. Daniel Jackson is attempting to sabotage my efforts at making the perfect dessert."

Sam and the Colonel gave Cass a boost to her feet and watched as she rounded the firepit to save Teal'c's dessert. As she deftly began the process of building a s'more for the Jaffa, the Colonel again handed Sam her drink. She took it, her fingers brushing his, as her eyes remained on the girl-turned-young woman across from them.

"Hard to believe she's the same kid, isn't it?" O'Neill's voice was slightly gruff.

"Yes."

"How old do you suppose she was when we..." Now his voice was lower, he was careful to pitch it so that the others across the fire wouldn't hear.

Sam tilted her head slightly, her eyes still on Cassie. "Hmm. She looked to be about, oh, I don't know. Seventy maybe? Seventy-five?" She felt the Colonel's movement as he raised his coffee to his lips.

"Yeah, I thought so too."

They were quiet for a moment, watching the interaction as Daniel and Janet quietly talked and Cassie patiently explained a knock-knock joke to Teal'c. O'Neill's quietly spoke again, his voice, coming so close to Sam's ear that she barely suppressed a shiver down her spine.

"What are you thinking about so hard, Carter?"

"The future." Sam's voice was equally soft as she let her imagination take over for a moment, wondering at the possibilities. "Everything in the gateroom was covered...shrouded. Like it was...I don't know..."

"Obsolete?"

"Yeah. Forgotten." Sam shivered slightly. "I don't like the idea that, that..."

"Everything we think is state-of-the-art is obsolete? Mothballed? Phased-out?" O'Neill's tone was joking, but when Sam turned to face him she could see that he was serious.

"Yes, Sir. That." She turned back to where Cass was now sitting cross-legged at Teal's feet, her back resting against the Jaffa, happily toasting another marshmallow. "And I wonder, what happened to...us?"

"Us, Carter?" This time there was no stopping the frission of warmth that rippled through her as he asked his question.

Sam turned to him again, surprised to find his face so close to hers. "Uh...yes. You know..." She gestured vaguely across the fire. "Us. Th– the team."

"Ah." O'Neill pulled back slightly, but kept his eyes on hers. "That 'us.' Well, we know that Cassie grows up to a ripe old age and takes to wandering around the SGC...or what's left of it...in her jammies."

"Sir!" Sam smothered a giggle, careful not to let it carry across to the teen in question. She took another sip of her hot chocolate before catching his gaze again. "If she was seventy-five, we went sixty-two years too far. Think of it. Sixty-two. We must have gone at least to the year 2061. Wow. That would mean that..."

"That I'm _really_ old."

"Colonel." Sam shook her head. "I'm sorry to say, Sir. That it means you're, um, most likely–" Sam stopped, suddenly aware of what she was about to say. And just as suddenly aware of how lost that made her feel. Her eyes filled and she quickly looked away, horrified that he might see and equally stunned at her own reaction to his future death.

Bereft.

She felt bereft. She felt like... felt like... _Oh my God_ , she thought. _I...it feels like when Mom...but...not. Worse. I...if he's de–_ she couldn't even _think_ it, let alone say it. Suddenly queasy, Sam looked again at her CO, begging him with her eyes not to finish her sentence.

He held her gaze for a long moment, and Sam knew that he had seen her tears. She hoped he hadn't seen more. O'Neill glanced quickly across the fire and, apparently satisfied that everyone's attention was focused on their own discussions, brought his hand up to brush away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. His gesture hidden by the enveloping darkness and untouched by firelight, he let his hand linger for a moment. "I'm most likely...retired. Right Carter?"

Sam closed her eyes, unable to hold his gaze. If she did she knew he'd see everything. She knew...had known for a while that what she felt for her CO bordered on inappropriate. That as much as she loved and admired both Daniel and Teal'c and would go to the very ends of the Earth for both men, what she felt for this man was more. So very much more. And so very, very wrong–at least as far as the Air Force was concerned. It seemed, however, that while Sam had lived just about every day for the last ten years or more by the rules the Air Force set forward, her heart had other plans. Just the thought that she had, for a brief time, been in a world from which Jack O'Neill had passed left her with an ache she didn't know what to do with. Couldn't ease away.

"Carter." O'Neill's voice was gentle. "Sam, look at me."

Sam felt his fingertips under her chin and she opened her eyes again as he tipped her face upward. "You know...you know I..." With a quiet oath he broke off, turning again to look across the fire, his hand dropped away from her chin. After a moment or two he looked back again, holding her gaze. "Sixty-two years is a long, long time, Sam. A long time. Lots of things can happen...can change."

Her eyes still on his, Sam simply nodded, fiercely suppressing the thrill that ran through her at his words. They sat together, their faces inches apart while the night wore on around them. Sam could feel the current that always seemed to run between them pulsing with tension...with emotion. She swore she could almost feel _him_ at that moment, even though the only contact between them was the barest brush of her shoulder against his. Sam wrestled her emotions back into control, wondering why it was that when they were together around a fire that the barriers were so thin...so permeable. She took a deep breath, and another. In through her nose, absently noting his scent mixed with hers as she did so. She closed her eyes and took one last steadying breath and blew it out again before opening her eyes again. This time she met his gaze with a faint smile.

"Okay?"

"Yes. Sir." Sam breathed in again, feeling the last of that ache fade away. "Thank you."

"You know the best part of what Cassie...I mean future Cassandra said?" Jack asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"That our journey was just beginning?"

"Nope." The Colonel looked back across the fire then quirked his chin to where Daniel sat huddled with Fraiser. "That she hardly recognized Daniel with hair."

Sam dipped her head into his shoulder briefly, stifling the giggles that overwhelmed her at his words. She was still shaking inside at the realization of the depth of her feelings for him. At how lost and alone she felt at the thought of his being gone...lost to her. But...as he always did. And always would, she realized, he made her feel better. Just by being who he was. And he was right, she realized. Sixty-two years _was_ a long time.

Anything could happen.

End.

Afterword: And thus we come to the end of Season 2! Wow! Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, and recommended this series. The first story of Season 3 is in the works right now. More to come! Thank you. ~Pol


End file.
